


Our Resonance

by animeguylover14



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Ichigo, F/F, F/M, God Kurosaki Ichigo, Ichigo is summoned to the past, Kurosaki Ichigo Needs a Hug, M/M, Major Character Death mentioned (future timeline), Multi, Multiple Pairings, Polyamory, Soul Bond, Soul King Kurosaki Ichigo, Soulmates, Timeline Fuckery, Worldbuilding, i guess, its always kisuke's fault, please someone help him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25122475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animeguylover14/pseuds/animeguylover14
Summary: The men and women who made up the large group were meeting for what seemed to be the hundredth time to discuss how in the Three Worlds they were going to defeat Aizen, his army of Arrancars, and the Hogyoku. They were all placing their fragile hopes on this crazy scheme Urahara Kisuke had cooked up.A Machine that will surely be the solution to all their problems.Except, like most of Urahara's mad scientist inventions, it doesn't go as expected.Instead of a hero, a broken and beaten god with flame-like hair and three Zanpakuto appears. Less enthused, more inclined to believe he is hallucinating those long dead and gone.
Relationships: Aizen Sousuke/Kurosaki Ichigo, Benihime/Zangetsu Ossan, Hollow Ichigo | Zangetsu/Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Hollow Ichigo/Zangentsu/Tensa Zangetsu, I kinda went overboard lol, Kuchiki Byakuya/Kurosaki Ichigo, Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke, Lots of pairings - Relationship, Muramasa/Kyoka Suigetsu, Starrk Coyote/ Mugetsu, Tensa Zangetsu/Senbonzakura
Comments: 18
Kudos: 246





	1. Urahara Kisuke's Deus ex Machina Machine

**Author's Note:**

> So I just wanted to kinda give a bit of an explanation for this fic.  
> 1\. This is a fic I term "reactionary" which means there are lots of characters whose purpose is just to react to what is happening, much like in anime fight/reveal scenes where most characters besides the protag just exclaim shit. So for those who get confused with all the characters and dialogue, that's why. Cuz I like seeing other characters react to shit that goes on. What are they thinking ya know?  
> 2\. This is complete as of now. I may end up continuing it, but for some reason I have had trouble for over 6 months continuing this and I want to get it up for now. Sorry in advance.  
> 3\. I am working with this whole "soul bond" idea and the idea of colored soul bonds. So the concept may seem confusing, but if you have questions i will do my best to explain.  
> 4\. No current character die in this fic, it is all mentioned as happening to future Ichigo. If that is what is turning you away.  
> 5\. Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: 7/16/20 Format corrections

Chapter 1

The men and women who made up the large group were meeting for what seemed to be the hundredth time to discuss how in the Three Worlds they were going to defeat Aizen, his army of Arrancars, and the Hogyoku. They were all placing their fragile hopes on this crazy scheme Urahara Kisuke had cooked up.

Urahara wasn’t even sure what exactly the machine he built would do. All Urahara knew was how to use it and that it was designed to locate the answer to the user’s request. 

Head Captain Yamamoto took stock of the room he sat in. Captains and Vice-Captains, Visored, humans, ex-Gotei Shinigami, Kuchiki Rukia and the Eleventh Squad’s Third-Seat and Fifth-Seat, Isshin and Urahara and Yoruichi, everyone that had a hand in fighting or leading the ranks into all the battles they had fought in this Winter’s War with Aizen. The room was full to the brim with all parties. Tension was high as the groups intermingled and conversed with each other, and the mood was grim.

It seemed as though the sun was not shining when their beacon of hope Kurosaki Ichigo was in critical condition, and it was affecting everyone both consciously and unconsciously.

The boy who became Substitute Shinigami, and then became a man and true member of the Gotei 13, Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo, was perhaps the greatest soul to grace these halls. 

Yamamoto saw all that untapped potential just waiting to be accessed in that spitfire who so easily invaded Seireitei and threw centuries of laws and practices out the metaphorical window. And it was a breath of fresh air to the wise old Captain. He had struck a deal with the boy right after that disaster with Kuchiki Rukia. 

The boy would stay in Soul Society to train and hone his new-found powers. The best of the best teaching him to harness his full potential. In return, his human friends were allowed to return to the Mundane World without having their memories altered.

The boy was magnificent. He grew exponentially, it seemed there was no end to his growth. And it wasn’t just the boy who grew. No, the entirety of the Gotei seemed to prosper just by being near him. Everyone worked harder, trained to become stronger. He seemed to bring out the best in all who met him.

There was not a member in the Gotei who didn’t come to respect or befriend the carrot top. His power, morals, and all-around goodness inspired respect and loyalty. And he was a friend to all. Ichigo did not discriminate. He greeted everyone, helped anyone, gave advice, trained with, talked with, laughed with any man or woman who approached him.

And it was because of this that the Soutaicho didn’t consider making him Captain of a Squad. He had bigger plans for the boy turned Shinigami. He was grooming the boy for a new position within the Gotei. A position he had created specifically with the man in mind.  
He would be part of the ruling body of Soul Society, along with the Squads and Central 46, he would be above it all as a third party. Both protector and counselor, fighter and judge; Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo would have as much, if not more power than the Head Captain. 

Not that the boy was aware. 

He taught the boy history and law, sword skills and strategy. An education far beyond the likes taught at the academy, and ten times more intense. He grew fond of Ichigo, like he was his own grandchild, and Ichigo had flourished under the attention and guidance.

After a run in with the 4th Espada and an admittedly one-sided fight (an Ichigo sided fight) with the 6th Espada there were signs that his boy had that same hollow energy he recognized from 100 years ago. And he knew he alone could not hope to train the boy with all his growing powers.

He sought out Urahara Kisuke. Who in turn introduced the boy to that same group of individuals who had been wrongly expelled from the court of pure souls.

So many truths had come to light when Aizen and the two traitor Captains exposed themselves. Every event was re-examined, records and reports were gone through. Disappearance cases re-opened and investigated.

The findings had been as numerous as they were horrifying. All those lives changed forever, taken, or ruined by one man who wanted to play god. And it happened all under his nose. Right there with him being too blind or stubborn to see it.

He had lost too many good men and women. Now was not the time to alienate potential allies. He offered the group a full pardon and reinstatement into the Gotei. He knew this would not make up for a century of hatred and betrayal, but he was going to do what he could to right this mistake.

Shinji Hirako took Ichigo under his wing and helped him train to handle his inner hollow.  
The group adopted Ichigo as one of their own. And that is the reason he believes they took his offer to return in the end. Not to their positions, not yet. He had faith they would come around by the end of the war. The Visords came to aid them as an independent group under Ichigo’s banner. 

Urahara, Yoruichi, and Tessai reaccepted their titles, but became their Mundane World liaisons instead of accepting their old posts.

Ichigo’s group of human friends took on the hollow activity in Karakura town much to his grudging acceptance. It was Ichigo once again who convinced him of this necessity. He was learning as well; times were changing, and he had to accept that the Three Worlds would need to work together to win this war.

With the appearance of this small group of human fighters came the introduction of Ichigo’s family. His sisters were very accommodating to any Shinigami or hybrid invasion of their home.  
The discovery of his father’s identity, and in turn his mother’s, came as a great shock to all involved, including Ichigo himself.

A former Captain and Shiba Clan Head, Isshin Shiba was thought to have died on a mission to the Mundane World over 15 years prior. A body had never been recovered. But it seems as with all strange happenings in the past century or two, Aizen was behind the scenes in this event as well.

He looked at this group of individuals and saw a unity he could never have imagined. 

All of this was made possible because of one man.

Kurosaki Ichigo

He tapped his cane to the ground twice to call attention. “All gathered parties please introduce yourself and state your ranking or previous ranking and affiliation if needed,” he glanced at the Visored, “for the record. We must do this every meeting as a formality, so I will hear no complaints. Begin Squad 1.”

Himself and his Fukutaicho Sasakibe began and Squad 2 followed.

“Captain of Squad 2 and Omitsikido, Soifon. And this is my Vice-Captain, Omaida,” Soifon stated in a harsh tone. She was making an art form out of simultaneously glaring at Urahara and staring intensely at Yoruichi.

“Gotei 13,” she tacked on with a stern crossing of her arms.

“Lieutenant and Acting Captain of Squad 3 Izuru Kira,” Izuru stated meekly. He looked the most uncomfortable in the room. Despite his dedication and unwavering loyalty in the war so far, he was still getting distrustful looks from some of the people gathered. Soifon was the main culprit. Hisagi Fukutaicho looked reading to draw his weapon on anyone who so much as looked at his friend funny.

“Gotei 13,” he states his clearly and much more loudly and confidently. He stood straighter and looked the room in the eye. Those gathered barring Soifon seemed to accept this and looked away, Hisagi nodded sharply.

“Captain of Squad 4 Unohana Retsu and Vice-Captain Isane present. Gotei 13.” Unohana said this with her usual poise and slightly terrifying smile on her lips.

A small but loud silence followed as everyone gathered realized no one was present to represent Division 5 anymore. Hitsugaya Taichō looked particularly gutted for a moment before schooling his features.

“Squad 5 has taken the most hits in this terrible ordeal. We will take this moment to acknowledge the sacrifices the Squad has made and the hardships they have faced since the abandonment of their Captain and the tragic loss of Hinamori Momo in this past week’s battle,” this the head Captain said strongly, leaving no room for doubting his words.

“Proceed. Squad 6.”

“Captain of Division 6 of the Gotei 13 and Kuchiki Clan Head Kuchiki Byakuya,” he spoke with a stern, cold voice, the ice in his tone and the metal of his eyes was on full blast. Although he let no emotion cloud his face the mere fact that he was so statuesque spoke volumes of how the noble Captain was actually feeling.

“Vice-Captain of Squad 6, Gotei 13 Abari Renji present,” Renji all but yelled. He was clearly trying his best to be respectful but was operating on little rest and short nerves. No one begrudged him for his overly loud introduction.

“Sajin Komamura, Captain of Squad 7 of the Gotei 13.” The furred Captain presented in his deep rumble.

“Lieutenant of Squad 7, Gotei, Tetsuzaemon Iba.” Iba was straight faced and was standing dutifully by his Captain with his hands held stiffly behind his back.

“Captain of Squad 8 of the Gotei, Shunsui Kyouraku. And this is my lovely Vice-Captain Nanao-chan,” Shunsui said with his usual drawl. Although he shot moon eyes at his Fukutaicho when he introduced her.

Hitting him in the gut with her book, Nanao coughed and straightened her glasses before saying, “Vice-Captain Nanao Ise of Squad 8, Gotei 13. present.”

Shunsui’s whine at the abuse went largely ignored. Ukitake just smiled at his partner in exasperation.

“Lieutenant and Acting Captain of Squad 9 Hisagi Shūhei of the Gotei 13.” Hisagi was still glaring at Soifon, much to Kira’s embarrassment. He almost looked ready to apologize on Shūhei’s behalf.

“Captain Hitsugaya Toushiro, Squad 10 of the Gotei 13. Present. Lieutenant Matsumoto Rangiku also present.” The small Captain had his arms crossed and his head tilted up in an attempt to add some volume to his presence. He needn’t have bothered for two reasons though. The first was because the air in a 5-foot radius around him was charged with an electric cold energy and he was noticeable given the fact he had a wide birth around him, and two, because Matsumoto seemed not to care that her hair was frosting at the ends as she leaned over her Captain heavily to hug him from behind when he introduced her. Leading to a brief struggle from the icy Captain as he tried to escape suffocation in her ample bosom.

Grinning maniacally at the proceedings, “Kenpachi Zaraki, Captain of Squad 11.” He said with a bloodthirsty tone. Upon receiving a tug to the ear from his pink haired shoulder companion he continued, “Lieutenant Yachiru present.”

Another tug to his ear earned a side glare, “Che. Gotei 13.”

Appeased Yachiru giggled and launched herself onto an unsuspecting Ikkaku.

“Quit chewin’ on my head ya brat!”

Yachiru continued to drool all over his bald head as Yumichika tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand. He introduces the both of them seeing that his partner is otherwise occupied trying to pry Yachiru’s piranha-like teeth from his skull.

“Fifth Seat Ayasegawa Yumichika and Third Seat Madarame Ikkaku of Squad Eleven. Gotei Thirteen.” He finishes with a flip of his hair.

“Captain of Squad 12, Research and Development of the Gotei 13, Kurotsuchi Mayuri.” He states in an irritated tone. He obviously thought he had better things to do than stand around in this meeting.

“This is my assistant, Lieutenant Nemu. Mandatorily present,” he sniffs.

“Gotei 13 Captain Juushiro Ukitake of Squad 13 present.” Ukitake looks quite content despite the atmosphere and the attitude Mayuri is throwing out near him. He was watching the still continuing battle between Ikkaku and Yachiru who have taken the struggle to the back of the room.

“Lieutenant Kuchiki Rukia of Squad 13. Gotei 13.” Rukia stood proudly showing her new badge next to her Captain. Upon returning from Hueco Mundo her Captain had promoted her with the long sought for permission of her brother. Renji grinned widely next to her at her title.

With that everyone gathered looked to each other unsure of who should go next. Seeing this Shinji gave a put-upon sigh and stood straighter to address the room.

“Hirako Shinji, former Captain of Squad Five. Unofficial Leader of our group called the Visored. Our allegiance is no longer to the Gotei. We are here solely to kick in Aizen’s perfect teeth and we are only here because of Kurosaki Ichigo. I believe I already stated this to Soutaicho-san when we agreed to join forces.”

Genryūsai nodded.

“Firstly, we have Rojuuro “Rose” Ōtoribashi former Captain of Division 3.” Rose gave a wink and a small wave to the audience. He was happy to be back in Soul Society, even just breathing the air. He glanced to his left where his partner Love seemed to be exuding a chill attitude, but Rose knew he was also pleased to be here.

“Next is Love Aikawa former Captain of Division 7.” Love gave a two-fingered salute at the introduction.

“Kensei Muguruma former Captain of Squad 9 and his bubbly former Lieutenant Mashiro Kuna.” Kensei gave a sharp nod. His arms were crossed on his chest and he stood military straight. His trademark scowl in place. Mashiro on the other hand was bouncing in place and waving at everyone. She was finally stopped by Kensei when he received one too many back slaps to the face.

“This big guy is Hachigen Ushoda former Kidō Corps Lieutenant. The school-girl wannabe is Lisa Yadomura former Lieutenant of your dear Squad 8 Captain Kyouraku.” Lisa looked irritated at the introduction but otherwise stood silent looking at the room intimidatingly from above her glasses.

Shunsui brightened when she looked his way, but she sniffed and turned her head away, prompting him to deflate like a popped balloon.

“Still as sharp as ever Lisa-san.” Ukitake smiled gently at her.

She gave a small half smile at the comment. Nodding slightly to let him know she heard. She has always liked the gentle Captain.

Nanao stared at her predecessor. She wanted to know this woman, the lieutenant her Captain had loved maybe even more than her. She might even learn a thing or two about dealing with her alcoholic bum of a Captain, she thought.

“And last but definitely not least, this little firecracker is Hiyori Sarugaki former Lieutenant of Squad 12, that being, former Lieutenant of former Squad 12 creator and Captain, Urahara Kisuke for those of you who don’t know.” Shinji finished half sarcastically.

Hiyori stompers on Shinji’s foot prompting a stifled yelp from the man. She glares harshly at everyone and sniffed loudly through her nose. She hated being in a room with all these soul reapers. She could hold a grudge. And she had held a grudge for over 100 years.

Taking that as a cue from Shinji, the man stepped forward and pushed his hat back. “As Hirako-san said, I am the creator and former Captain of the Research and Development Division, Squad 12.”

Mayuri made a disdainful noise at the man. His views on science had always differed greatly from his predecessor. He hated the man but enjoyed the challenge of one upping the man with everything he invented.

“Currently I reside in the World of the Living as Captain of Soul Society’s liaison team.” Urahara smirked behind his fan.

Soifon’s hand twitched. She wanted to stab the man in the eyes.

“I own and operate a shouten with Tessai, ah, the former Kidō Corps Captain by the way, that sells merchandise of the Shinigami persuasion. And that’s how I came to know this man.” Urahara gestured theatrically with his fan with a wide grin. 

Isshin sighed. He was now more subdued than many had seen him in the week past. The man seemed to have unending energy, and a penchant for yelling to his deceased wife about his poor treatment by his children.

The man was certainly bipolar most thought. But the Captains who had known the man prior to his disappearance knew better. Isshin had a carefree side like most of the Shiba clan. But he also has the fierceness and loyalty to family as a Shiba. Isshin was a downright dangerous opponent back in the day.

“I should start by saying that I am Isshin Kurosaki. My son is Ichigo Kurosaki. I am a Doctor at the family clinic I run from my home in Karakura Town. I have been there for a little over 20 years now. My real name is Isshin Shiba, I was the former Shiba Clan Head after the late Kaien Shiba and was the Captain of Squad 10. At the time Matsumoto was Lieutenant and little Shiro-chan was my Third seat.” He laughed.

Hitsugaya stared at the man who used to be his Captain, he was still unsure if he wanted to hug or punch the man.

“As I said, I was Shiba clan head. I came from the Branch Family I guess you could call it. Kaien was my nephew. I’m sure some of you noticed how similar Kaien and my Ichigo look. Of course, we all know the story of how I met my beautiful wife Masaki Kurosaki,” Isshin gushed. 

Many rolled their eyes. You had to have been living under a rock the past couple of years if you hadn’t heard the story.

“I married Masaki and we had three beautiful children. My two daughters Yuzu and Karin are less spiritually inclined than our dear Ichigo. Ichigo inherited my Shinigami powers and Masaki’s Quincy bloodline. And as you have seen many times in battle, Ichigo also inherited the hollow ‘White’ from the pair of us.”

Isshin stopped for a second and gathered himself. Those who knew Ichigo knew of his mother’s death. They knew this story had an unhappy ending.

“I opened a clinic. Urahara and I kept in contact, we both knew that Aizen would resurface in the near future. When Ichigo was 9 years old Masaki and he were attacked by a hollow named Grand Fisher. She was able to protect Ichigo, but she herself was killed.”

Isshin looked up for a while. The room somber as they watched the man mourn his loss. Urahara once again had his hat tilted to hide his face. The Kurosaki family had suffered greatly.

“I regained my Shinigami powers when Ichigo awoke the hollow lying dormant in his soul. And I’ve been here to make all your lives better since, hahaha!” Isshin finished.

“Ishida Ryuuken. Quincy.” The stoic man stood stiffly and said nothing else.

“Well, on that note, I’m Yoruichi Shihoin former Head of the Shihoin Clan, former 2nd Division Captain and Leader of the Omitsukido, and the shunpo master “The Flash Goddess.” Soifon was my Lieutenant at the time of my self-imposed expulsion from Soul Society. I’m just here to have fun.” Yoruichi shrugged. 

The room sweat dropped.

“Ah, um, I’m...” Everyone looked over to Ichigo’s petit, strawberry blond, female friend as she stuttered an introduction.

“Go on Hime-Chan,” Kisuke urged.

“I’m Orihime Inoue. I’m a human and friends with Kurosaki-San. My power is to reject matter. This helps me to heal injuries. I’ve mostly been helping the Fourth Division and Unohana Taicho with the wounded. I did my best healing Kurosaki-kun...” she stopped, sniffing hard and wiping her eyes.

Uryuu put an arm around her. His head tilted so that the glare of his glasses shielded his eyes. Chad looked away dealing with how he felt in his own silent way.

Uryuu spoke, “I am Uryuu Ishida, son of Ryūken Ishida, I am one of the last pure blood Quincy in the human world. I am here only because of my loyalty to Kurosaki, not because of any other reason than he is my friend and I trust him with my life. I tolerate soul reapers for his sake but make no mistake, I still hate you on principle for what you’ve done to my people and specifically what Mayuri did to my grandfather.” Uryuu spoke fiercely. He glared with fire filled eyes at Mayuri, showing that his ire was still just as strong as it was when they first battled.

Mayuri just grinned with a frankly terrifying toothy smile and shrugged. “That’s just how things were Quincy boy. Central gave me permission to do whatever I wanted with recovered Quincy and they’re all dead now. I had so much freedom in those days!” He raves loudly and with wild gestures.

“Nemu! Enough of this prattle, I have inspiration! To lab 147, I don’t need strategy and planning or theoretical time machines to win this war! I have science for times such as these! Chop chop you dim girl!”

And before anyone could stop him, Mayuri flounced out the door with Nemu trailing behind him. Her customary, “Hai, Mayuri-sama,” could be heard faintly before the door slammed shut.

“He lasted longer than I expected.” Urahara chortled.

Yamamoto sighed. “Continue.”

“...Yasutora sado. Ichigo calls me Chado. I’m here for Ichigo. We have always had each other’s backs and I refuse to break my pact with him now.”Chad managed to state this quietly with conviction. His brown eyes were lit with determination to help his brother in all but blood.

“With that our roll is accounted for.” Sasakibe confirms.

“Very well, Urahara, you requested this meeting. You may proceed.”

“Ok everyone, make sure you stand back and stay on guard for every eventuality. We have no idea who or what may respond to our request. The machine should calculate the source of our best chance and give us some feedback. We may not get anything at all if I’m being completely honest. But here we go.”

Urahara placed his hand on a square shaped sensor on the front and closed his eyes. The room could feel the man’s intense spirit pressure begin to gather. When the weight of his power was palpable Urahara funneled it into the device.

Immediately, two things happened. One was that the machine flared to life with a loud mechanical growl, and two was that Urahara realized the machine was sucking out more and more of his Reiyoku without his assistance. He tried to remove his hand, but it was as if he was magnetically attached. He could feel his energy draining fast, he would surely be sucked dry if he didn’t find a way to stop the drain.

Realizing something had predictably gone wrong by the widening of their friend’s eyes, Shinji and Isshin stepped forward to grab onto Kisuke’s shoulders. The room watched in astonishment as the current passed up Kisuke’s arms and latched onto the two former Captains, draining them as well.

The group seemed to come to life as one as they rushed forward to aid their stuck comrades. Just when Yamamoto began to think he might have to destroy the machine, it suddenly went quiet and the ones attached sprang loose.

Kisuke, Isshin, Hiyori latched to Shinji’s ankle, Renji and an attached Rukia, Yumichika and Ikkaku who had rushed in after Renji, a squealing Yachiru, and an exasperated Hitsugaya Taichou all went sprawling backwards into the rest of the concerned party.

“Renji get your ass off me your giant monkey!” Rukia screamed from under Renji’s rear end.

“Hahaha again again!” Yachiru had obviously enjoyed the pandemonium.

“Well that was unexpected.” Urahara cheerfully stated from under a pile of Isshin and Shinji’s limbs. The three of them having ended up on the bottom of the pile-up.

The others groaned in varying stages of pain and exasperation.

“Well Shittyhara! Did it actually do anything!” Hiyori fumed as she took her ire out on Shinji’s head with a flip flop.

“Hmmm...”

Everyone righted themselves and looked around for any sign that the machine had worked. Urahara mumbled to himself as he examined the machine. He pressed a red button on the console and the printer expelled a single sheet of paper.

It had a large number 1 on it.

Urahara looked puzzled for a moment before his face closed off in serious contemplation. The calculations practically visible flashing through his eyes.

“...Well, I’m stumped.” He announced cheerily.

“Goddammit you washed up, pea brained, hack of a mad scientist! Think harder! What the fuck are we supposed to do with a paper with “ichi” written on it!” Hiyori exploded from atop Shinji, stepping on his face on the way up.

“...What did you say Sarugaki-San?”

“I said you’re a washed-up old quack, ya dumbass!”

“No, after that. The way you described the character on the paper.” Urahara said excitedly.

“...It says ‘ichi’ don’t it. Like the number 1.” She said testily with her arms crossed, her tone like that of someone speaking to a particularly slow child.

“That’s it!”

“Please enlighten the rest of us mere mortals of your genius breakthrough.” Soifon sniffed derisively.

“It’s a number 1!”

“That’s it, he’s obviously cracked. This was a stupid idea! I can’t believe I actually thought some half cooked up scheme of yours was actually going to help us. That’s it people prepare your own graves! We’re finished!” Hiyori stomped off infuriated.

“Hmm, while I don’t fully agree with Sarugaki-san completely, I must say Urahara-san, I’m quite confused as to where you are going with this as well.” Ukitake smiled not unkindly.

Shunsui hummed beside him in agreement.

The rest of the gathered men and women looked on with expressions ranging from angry, crushed, and fed up. Kuchiki Taichou was stone faced, giving the room an icy look that said he would rather be anywhere else.

“Come on everyone, it’s a number one. Ichi. Ichiban, ‘the greatest!’ As in our greatest hope; our number 1 chance at winning this fight is obviously Ichigo!” He finished triumphantly. As if he had just solved all their problems single handedly.

“With all due respect, Urahara Taichou,” Byakuya said frosty venom, “in case you have forgotten, the reason we are here is because Ichigo is lying in the Fourth Division because of our ineptitude.”

The mood in the room sharply plummeted. 

Byakuya stewed inwardly in his own self-loathing. He couldn’t even be angry with the boy, no man, who so recklessly jumped in battle without any self-preservation. So it was with a deep self-loathing at his inability to protect those he called his pride, he turned to leave before his mask crumbled in front of everyone. 

The sight of Urahara’s gutted expression giving him a momentary feeling of ugly satisfaction. 

He was halted, however by a loud exclamation from Captain Zaraki. “Haaa! What are we standing around cryin’ about. If Ichigo was here he’d kick yur asses fer cryin’ over him. He’s a damn good warrior and we should be talkin’ about how we’re gonna to do one better when we run inta that fruit Aizen again!” Kenpachi yelled with a wide grin.

This was met with a few small smiles and nods. 

Urahara coughed loudly. Most glanced his way as he took his hat off and put his fan up his sleeve. This was not Urahara Kisuke: shouten owner. This was Urahara Taichō. He looked seriously at the groups, eyes taking them all in before he began to speak. “I would like to remind everyone that what I am about to tell you is not to make you feel guilty or hopeless. Ichigo’s condition is serious and, yes, there is a possibility he may not recover.”

He held up a hand a some opened their mouths to protest. “Please let me finish. Ichigo chose this path. We all may have had an impact on his life, on his relationships, and we may have led him here into this war. But being here, fighting, was his decision and we should respect it. From the very beginning Ichigo has always made his own choices. He has followed his heart and not allowed anyone to convince him otherwise.

When his family was threatened by a hollow and he was given a choice, and he accepted Rukia’s offer without hesitation. 

When he was left for dead and his powers stripped from him; he didn’t wallow in self-pity. He demanded I help him get his powers back. When I put him through task after task he never complained; he persevered.

When he invaded Soul Society he fought countless battles. No matter who told him it was pointless, and no matter how many times he was beat down, he got back up.  
He made it through on sheer force of will and determination. I have never met a man with more strength of character than Ichigo.

And he has just kept on going. Hollows, Arrancar, Espada; he broke into Hueco  
Mundo, broke into Las Noches, for kami sake! He’s defeated some of Aizen’s top Espada. He’s technically died twice. And yet he came out on top.

This one battle has ended with a flesh wound, but we all know that has never been enough to keep Ichigo down for long.

If we told him that he shouldn’t have to fight in this war or fight our battles for us he would scowl at us and do it anyway. Not because he has to, or he was made to, but because that’s what his heart is telling him to do.

If we told him we stood around in a room crying over him, Kenpachi is right, he’d kick our asses, and soundly.

If he woke up today and saw us doing anything less than our best to win this war he’d make us sit down where we stand and give us an hour long speech about doing what is right and not what is easy.” 

Kisuke’s verbal smack-down was full of passion and determination. The room full of Ichigo’s friends and comrades came around at Urahara’s undeniably true words. 

Isshin was sniffing in a rather noisy, disgusting manner. He was so proud of the man his son had become. Just looking around this gathering of people he could see how many cared about his son. How many trusted him, how many respected or looked up to him. These centuries old Shinigami and hybrids depending on his boy. More than that though, the fact that his son had inspired this loyalty by just being himself was what had him choked up.

They looked to Urahara with new determination to see this through.

The Soutaicho gave an affirmative grunt. “Well said, Urahara Taicho. Now please continue with your findings.”

“As I said earlier, the machine calculates the best response to our inquiry. The words I entered into the machine were, “Aizen. War. Victory. Help.” This covers quite a few topics relating to our situation. I was not too specific on this first try because I wanted the best chance for receiving results. Assuming I am interpreting this response correctly, Ichigo is the best solution to our problem. 

The machine searches past, present, and future so there is a chance that Ichigo was our answer in the past and is not now. There is also a chance that he is the solution in the distant future. The problem might not even be our current one. The machine may be referencing another war, kami forbid, or even something as mundane as a friendly duel in which there is a victor and a loser.

All of this is speculation. Interpreting these readings will be about as accurate as human fortune telling. But we must not give up yet! We simply must continue entering requests into the machine and narrow down our results. Anyone want to volunteer?”

A slight pause ensued before Renji raised a tentative hand. 

“Yes, Abarai-fukutaicho.”

“Well, um, if Ichigo is the one who’s gonna help us win the war, shouldn’t we just ask how Ichigo is gonna do that?” Renji asked uncertainly. 

No one said anything to reject the idea, so Renji continued. 

“I mean, you said we needed to narrow it down, or whatever, so instead of the who or what we need the how…right?”

“That is surprisingly well thought out for you, Abarai,” Yumichika teased.

Turning red in the face with embarrassment, Renji shouted, “Oi, you sayin’ I’m stupid ya peacock?”

“No, he’s saying we didn’t know you actually had a brain under those huge eyebrows, Pineapple head.” Hiyori said with a mean smirk. 

Renji made to retort but was cut short when Rukia elbowed him hard in the gut stealing his air supply. 

“Abarai Fukutaicho’s proposal seems logical. I vote in favor.” Hitsugaya Taicho calmly stated.

“All in favor?” Sasakibe Fukutaicho asked in Yamamoto’s stead.

A large chorus of ‘hai’ was the resounding response. 

“Alright, then let’s get to it,” Urahara cheerily announced. 

“Kisuke.” 

“Yes, my dear koneko-chan.”

“You’ve forgotten that the machine tried to take all of your Reiyoku last time.” Yoruichi said, nonchalantly examining her nails.

“Ah, yes. That is quite a problem isn’t it. Hmm?” Urahara said with an open mouth grin peaking over his fan. “I suppose we’ll just have more than one person give their Reiatsu. As before, when some of you grabbed me while I was connected to the sensor. If there are more sources of Reiyoku for the machine to drain the overall strain will not be severe on any one person, in theory…” Urahara stated.

“Sounds good ta me. I’ve got plenty ta spare.” Zaraki grinned toothily.

The ones who ended up in front of the machine were Kenpachi, Rangiku, Hisagi, Rose, Byakuya, Hitsugaya, Lisa, Unohana, and Kensei. 

Once again there was no visible sign that the machine had worked. Everyone fared better this time when the machine released them though. 

Kenpachi hadn’t moved at all the entire time and stared in shark-faced amusement as he watched the others try to right themselves. 

Rangiku had been thrown off balance, most likely due to being so top heavy, and had fallen on Hisagi Fukutaicho. More accurately Hisagi was being treated to a face full of Rangiku’s ample assets. Kira rushed to save his friend from death by blood loss or suffocation, which ever came first.

Kuchiki Taicho appeared unruffled and resumed his previous position standing next to his sister and Vice-Captain.

Once everyone was paying attention to Urahara Taicho, the man pressed the red button on the machine. 

Everyone held their breath. 

What answer would they receive this time?

But this time there was no print-out. No noise from the machine. The machine gave no reaction whatsoever.

“Hmmm. The amount of reiatsu is sufficient, so that cannot be the cause of this malfunction. Mmm.” Urahara mumbled and started poking around the machine. 

“Ah ha! It appears we will be getting something more than a sheet of paper this time. The machine is…thinking…I guess you could call it.” Urahara shrugged nonchalantly.

The group looked at one another uncertainly. Would they just stand around indefinitely waiting? 

“Well, I think we should get back to training. We shouldn’t be wasting more time on this frankly pointless endeavor.” Soifon stepped forward glaring at Kisuke as she testily addressed the room. 

Her attempt to address the head Captain fell short when multiple people spoke their opinions and suggestions all at once.

“…It worked before, we just have to be patient...”

“…Knew that fan waving bastard couldn’t possibly build something actually useful…” Hiyori said crossly. 

“Urahara Taicho…” 

“…Ah, ano…everyone...” Orihime tried.

“…hah, ha. Lively bunch aren’t they Juu-chan…” Shunsui’s merry voice piped up.

“…Rukia, we’re leaving…” Byakuya stated stonily.

“Taichoouu! Let’s get drinks ~” Rangiku sang loudly.

“Urahara Taicho.”

“Urahara-san”

“Shitihara!”

“Ki-Kun.”

A loud bang accompanied by copious amounts of smoke interrupted the cacophony of voices violently. Everyone tensed; immediately switching gears to battle-ready in an instant.

A man had somehow materialized in front of them. They could not feel an ounce of reiatsu from the man. They couldn’t feel his Reiyoku, it was like he wasn’t even there.

But he was right before their eyes.


	2. The Broken God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Urahara's machine has brought a broken and haunted God from the furture, and he disturbingly similar to their favorite orange-haired hero.
> 
> But why Ichigo? Why this specific incarnation? What could have happened to break him so terribly? And most importantly, how can they help each other?

Chapter 2

The man had somehow materialized in front of them. They could not feel an ounce of Reiatsu from the man. They couldn’t feel his Reiyoku, it was like he wasn’t even there. But he was right before their eyes. 

He was tanned and lithe. He appeared soft, less sharp edged. His hands were fine and elegant. His hair was long and thick. It was the brightest orange of tiger lilies and flames. Not any one color of orange but rather a multitude of oranges and yellows and reds. Each strand catching and radiating the light in the room. There was a long pale green cloth holding up most of it in a high tail, even then the length reached well past his hips. Strands were free around his face and danced in the slight breeze. 

He wore an elegant silk Royal Kimono of the purest white. It graced his bare feet in a long train of rich fabric and the sleeves came just over his fingertips. Nails the color of pitch. The edges and inside were lined with a fiery crimson and the kimono itself was emblazoned with a burning sun that flamed its way over the kimono like blood on fresh fallen snow. 

His had a Zanpakutō on his side. It was thin and long. The scabbard was ebony, and the hilt was a deep red. The guard was a golden sun and from the tip of the handle a long crimson ribbon waved. A second Zanpakutō was across his back, they could just make out the large black guard of the sword and the chain links tinkling from the hilt. As if two weren’t enough, a third was on the man’s other hip. This one with a purple clothed hilt and a four-pointed star-shaped guard.

Its form immediately drew a frown from Yamamoto and an intense stare from the stoic Kuchiki Taicho.

He wore a green and white braided kumihimo with wooden beads, and another was a woven dark indigo with a black moon clasp. Through the small opening his kimono made they could see several golden bangles glimmer in the light from his right ankle.

His lips were full and pink, his nose straight and regal. His lashes were long and full. He was radiant. It was his eyes, though, that captured his audience. Like the eyes of a Geisha they were lined by crimson paint; they were a wide almond shape, they appeared impossibly large. They were like sunlight shining through bourbon, the rarest amber, they shone brighter than the sun and radiated fire. They were golden and crimson. Copper and ochre. The color changing with the turn of his head and the of catch of the light.

He was the very personification of fire.

Renji side-eyed his Captain. After his confrontation with Urahara Taichou earlier, the man had become like a statue next to him. The sudden appearance of this man, whom he would hazard a guess was Ichigo, his friend, different, older, yes, but still Ichigo, had definitely affected the steely noble. 

Renji noticed that his Captain was paler than usual, he noted the beads of sweat that had gathered at the man’s hairline. He wasn’t sure if he should be worried. He couldn’t tell what the man was thinking. He looked to Rukia for guidance, but she looked a little lost as well.

Rukia thought the appearance of the orangette would lift her brother’s spirits, but it seemed to have done the opposite. She couldn’t fathom a guess why. This Ichigo before them was alive and well. What could possibly be wrong when he was with them?

Those burning orbs flickered back and forth seeming to take in everything at once as he tried to grasp his situation. 

The party took in the man as well. The orange hair was a dead give-away for most. For others it was the warm feeling the man gave off. The sense of safeness and serenity they could feel in his presence. The burning amber of his eyes was another tell, as was one of the Zanpakutō. This man was undoubtedly their flame-haired hero’s older counterpart.

Their happy realizations were shattered when the man, seeming to digest what he was seeing, reacted not in surprise or delight or happiness; the man’s face twisted into a horrified, pained grimace. His eyebrows drew together as his eyes narrowed in anger and something akin to terror. He gasped loudly and stumbled back a step. 

Before they could ask what was wrong, he began to speak in a husky, baritone. The way it sounded… almost as if the man had been screaming and screaming, his voice was slightly hoarse even as it shattered the silence of the room.

“No. No… no. No. No!” He gasped out, his hand pressed over his heart. “It’s not possible…” he whispered wide-eyed.

He seemed to collect himself when no one said anything, his eyes darting to each of them frantically, and then he said a name. A name which confirmed Yamamoto’s fears.

“Muramasa.”

The form of a man appeared next to the side of the man. He had brown hair and wore a white cloak with purple fur. His nails were exceedingly long. The specter had eyes only for his orange haired master.

“Calm yourself, Master, I do not believe this is an illusion. These beings are not the creations of those we know to have passed from this world.”

This seemed to both comfort and shatter the man more.

“It’s not…?” He entreated.

The Zanpakutō spirit gave his master a saddened look as placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “No Master. Though we may not be certain, this cannot be the work of a falsified King, nor is it the shadows birthed from an Emperor, and it also cannot be the smoke and mirrors of a shattered Zanpakutō.”

The man, to their dismay, began to weep. “I don’t understand. It has to be. I can see them, and I can feel them, their Reiatsu. Yet… I cannot feel…” he gripped the fabric over his heart. “Not even the phantom feeling of connection…it has to be something else, could only be…” he trailed off before his face hardened in anger. 

“Am I finally dead? Is this some kind of purgatory?! Surely after all I have done, after all I have suffered, and bled and lost, I deserve better than to be faced with the punishment of staring all of my failures in the face.” He bitterly looked at them all, their own faces frozen from the shock. 

“I tried so hard to be strong. To get stronger. And yet… when I finally had the power to protect that which I loved so desperately, when I was given the title of King, of a God, I had nothing, nothing left to protect,” he spat vitriolically. 

“Aibou…” another being materialized behind the man. He was bleach white and had the black and gold eyes of a hollow. 

Some of them twitched violently to stop themselves from immediately drawing their Zanpakutō at the sight, but this was no ordinary hollow and the man did not start at his appearance. 

“Aruji…” the third to appear was an older, bearded man with shaggy brown hair and yellow sunglasses. His cloak was black and tattered and seemed to move in its own wind.

The three of them entreated their master, but Ichigo continued on, throwing an arm to the side in anger, his face contorting as if not sure which emotion to portray.

“No! Dammit! I have had it. I’m done! Fate, Karma, Death; those three bitches can go choke on a dick. They can go explain to the Zen-Ou why their perfect being has abandoned his post. There’s no way any of them have been doing their job properly for all this shit to have happened. Let them explain to Zen-Ou how they destroyed my life and everyone I have ever loved. I have nothing left to live for! What use is a Heikō, a Balancer, what use am I with no one to watch over, Zangetsu?!” He cried hoarsely and angrily into their faces. He entreated them to tell him otherwise.

“I have spent what seems an eternity in darkness when I am a being of light. I am in an inky black abyss staring out into an ocean of blood and death. The Three Worlds are no more. They are one mass of chaos and destruction. A reminder of yet another failure. Empty. Not a single damned soul. 

And myself. An all-powerful deity to stare at it and slowly go mad from the grief and the guilt and the pain I feel from having every last bond ripped from my soul,” he smiled sadly, hot tears running down his cheeks, “if only the pain had killed me instead.”

“Ichigo!” 

Many voices raised in alarm, but he ignored the others in the room as if they were not there and remained focused on his three spirits.

“You…please, don’ talk like tha Aibou…” the hollow pleaded hollowly. He looked as defeated as the man himself. 

“Would I have done things differently, do you think? Could I have? Was it always my course to take on a mad Quincy with delusions of godhood, to fight against a tyrannical Soul King who merely thought of his domain as a playground; both of whom thought the Three Worlds were theirs to command and manipulate; take them on, give all of myself for a chance at peace and win, but lose everything else in return?”

His eyes were dead as he turned to his still shell-shocked and horrified audience, “Those people…and so many more… bonds, my bonds, my everything…” his shoulders caved under the weight of his sorrow.

“Was it Kismet’s will that I lose all those precious souls, those white flickers so warmly tied to me, aware of each and every one; brightly existing on the edge of my senses.” His copper gaze looked through them, seeming to see through the walls around them.

“Was it Death’s will that I lose those who had pledged themselves to me, put themselves under my protection? Innocent men and women who I knew the names of? They greeted me as one of their own and came to me with their troubles.” His gaze slide over the Shinigami and the Taicho as he said this. Not stopping long to stare into their eyes, almost as if he were afraid to make that connection.

He turned his gaze to Komamura and Soifon, and the Fukutaicho, Yachiru and Matsumoto, Hisagi, Kira, and all those in between and gave a sad twitch of his lips. “My comrades and friends and partners, my Nakama, my loyal emeralds.” 

He looked at goat-face, the Visoreds, Toshiro and Rukia, Renji, Orihime, and Chad; he drank in their pale faces, “was it Karma that I suffer the burning pain of my bonds, the color of plums and violets, those bonds licked flames across my being as they were callously snuffed out without me able to do anything to stop it,” he glared at the floor, angry at himself, “My family…”

Orihime had been crying softly but now was weeping with many others at the man’s despair. And yet they could not move and could not speak. They wanted Ichigo to stop speaking and at the same time wished to hear of his tragedy. They could at least let him voice his troubles and lend him a sympathetic ear. They could at least give him that.

He gazed at Ukitake and Shunsui, Unohana, Kenpachi, Ryuuken, and Old Man Yama, “I lost mentors and confidants, people who were both friend and family and yet, more than that. We trusted and loved each other, learned, taught, and guided, we live surrounded by each other, aware of each other.”

Ichigo put a tired hand over his eyes, “these bonds tightened and tore as they were ripped through my hands, cutting and searing,” he choked on his breath.

Ukitake’s heart clenched and his breath seemed to have been stolen from his lungs. He was kept standing by Shunsui, but only just, as the sakkat-wearing man was also struggling to remain upright. 

Kenpachi looked completely dumbfounded. For once he had nothing to say.

Ichigo’s fingers trailed through the glinting lines of tears, all of his movements smooth and almost ethereal. He looked deeply into Uryuu’s eyes, searching for something Ishida couldn’t fathom. Ichigo’s smile was gut-wrenching even as it was soft, his voice even softer, “it seems fitting that you be here in my fevered vision, one of the first bonds I was gifted, just you out of those bonds, the ones weaved around my soul with crimson threads. Deeply, truly tied to the bits and pieces making up my patchwork of a soul. Mine, and yet not completely mine, but no less true. 

Was it by divine providence that I stand to live as these bonds withered and died like roses deprived of water and light. I cried tears in their color, their severance leaving my soul in agony as it was shattered.”

Uryuu was chalk-white and looked on the verge of either passing out or vomiting. The pain in Ichigo’s voice tearing at his chest in a way that felt physical.

Ichigo’s eyes locked with Shinji’s and then Byakuya’s and finally Urahara’s, and he gave a soft, self-deprecating scoff. “I used to laugh at the idea of Soul Mates. The idea that there was a person just for me out there somewhere. The idea that there could be another half of my soul searching endlessly for mine. A myth, a fairytale, bullshit I would think. And then I suddenly had four of my very own. I couldn’t even do that right,” he laughed again, “not one or two, but four. All our souls intertwined by golden threads throughout time and into eternity, what was meant to be an endless span of time together. We fell into each other’s orbit with all the grace of an atomic bomb,” his laughs became wet as tears fell once more, “with all the destruction and chaos as one too.”

He placed a palm on his chest, “Molten and sun-spotted, so bright I might have gone blind gazing at those silken ribbons woven into my heart,” he paused.

Looking at his spirits one by one, each meeting his gaze with hopeless dismay; he glanced over his ‘audience’ and took in their features. The stalled time did little to keep him from breaking down entirely as he continued. His eyes slide closed, dampened lashes brushing his cheeks, as if blocking out the world, as if he were alone in the visions behind his closed lids. His arms wrapped lovingly around his middle as he swayed gently in memory.

“They were so precious,” he whispered, and yet it reverberated through the room as if he had shouted. “Braided with the most gossamer, gentle, and pale pink spider-thread, they were so beautiful and innocent. I didn’t even have the chance to hold them in my arms,” he strained to get out.

Horror was chief in everyone’s expressions. Yamamoto had his eyes wide open. Isshin had finally collapsed into a heap on the floor, his face buried in his hands.

The three spirits looked the most pained they had been since they had appeared. The white spirit openly weeping with his King. 

But the worst off were the aforementioned men who, it seemed, had once held this being’s heart in their hands. Still coming to grasp with the idea that they were this beautiful man’s Soul Mates, that they were the ones who had the honor of loving and being loved in return by him, the implications of Ichigo’s last statement just about broke them. 

Shinji’s face seemed to be frozen in open-mouthed horror at just the thought… Ichigo was… he was something special. He was someone everyone felt like they already knew, or he already knew them. Some found this strange or worrisome, but Shinji was the opposite. From the first time he locked eyes with the teen, he felt a connection. He had spent as much of his time as he could trying to figure out why he felt this way. Shinji trusted no one. Not anymore. Only his Visored had the honor. But Ichigo, all he did was look at Shinji and he was hooked. 

He still didn’t have the answer to his question.

Shinji could never really put his finger on what exactly it was about Ichigo that drew everyone in. He was almost like a sun. He was warm and inviting and everyone wanted to get close and bask in his glow. But the sun is also dangerous, it will burn you if you are not careful. That’s what he hoped would happen to Aizen.

What he wanted to do to whoever had caused this man’s pain and suffering.

Burn to a crisp. 

He glanced to the bucket-hat wearing man across from him at his place still next to the machine, the source of this horrible incident, he had never seen the man look so devastated.

Kisuke was slumped up-right against the wall, his hat doing little to hide the sorrow and shadows on his face, his cheeks lined with still flowing tears. Over the years their relationship had evolved. A close bond formed. There was understanding there, and warmth, and affection, something he had never had with another being, not even Yoruichi. Even now he still didn’t fully understand their relationship… it was far more than any mentor-pupil or father-son or friendly relationship. It was different. Sometimes, he saw something like love in the younger man’s eyes. Urahara couldn't help but wonder…but he told himself to stand back. He didn’t deserve the love and respect Ichigo had for him. This whole mess was his fault; all because of a marble-sized rock he had created in his naivety. He couldn’t even begin to make up for all the wrongs, direct and indirect, he had done Ichigo. 

He would be there for the man, be his friend, his mentor, but Ichigo deserved better than him he had thought. He had thought with the blossoming relationship happening between the strawberry and Captain Kuchiki or Captain Hirako, that his moral dilemma would fade away. But Ichigo treated him the same as always. And what’s more he was becoming jealous. Completely, irrationally, jealous of the attention Ichigo gave the other men. 

He was screwed either way.

And then, Ichigo, reckless, stupid, beautiful Ichigo, had gotten himself half-killed. He found himself thinking over and over again that he would be fine never having Ichigo in any way, as long as he woke up. 

Well, his prayers had been answered.

Byakuya had forsaken propriety by this point. 

Rukia and Renji had never seen the man so much as break a sweat, let alone cry. But the man had lost all his composure.

Kuchiku Byakuya was angry at himself firstly, and at Soul Society, and at Aizen for doing this to them. He was angry at Ichigo for being reckless, at him for jumping into battle with no concern for himself, just for them. He was feeling guilty, ashamed, angry, mourning… He knew the chances of Ichigo waking up were getting slimmer by the day. His wounds were so severe. He was preparing himself for the eventuality that Ichigo may never speak to them again. May never look at them with those fiery copper orbs. May never call him by his first name just because he knew it annoyed him.

Rukia could see her brother had slowly been thawing, opening up, and this was due to her orange haired savior. She had seen the two become closer as the months went by. The Soutaicho had tasked her brother with teaching Ichigo Reiatsu control, her brother had been ruthless. Then they began to schedule recreational spars; they began to spend more time together. They had tea together in the Kuchiki gardens, they had long afternoons conversing with Ukitake and Shuunsui in the thirteenth division. 

At first, she assumed they were becoming close friends. Moving on from begrudging allies for her sake. But as she observed her brother and Ichigo, examined their interactions, she realized it was more than that. Ichigo and her brother were not quite courting or dating, not yet, but they were getting there. With how seemingly oblivious Ichigo was to romance, if his reactions to Orihime were any indication, and with how closed off her brother was emotionally, not just as clan head, but still grieving the loss of her sister, it may well take the both of them a century before they confess their feelings to each other. 

And she wasn’t blind, something was going on between Urahara and Ichigo too. Her brother had been even more caustic to the man in recent months. She had never really understood the relationship between her friend and the shady shopkeeper. No matter how many times Ichigo tried to explain it to her, she didn’t get it. 

She certainly hadn’t caught wind of anything between Hirako and Ichigo. She found herself curious despite herself about who the other soul was who this man in front of them had left unmentioned.

She had thought she didn’t care how it would end up happening. She wanted her brother to be happy. She wanted Ichigo to be happy. Those wishes were being crushed under the weight of this future reality.

That day… Byakuya had been focused on his own opponent. He was fighting Ichimaru Gin when it happened. Aizen was on the other side of the battlefield fighting Ichigo. Without time for anyone to react Aizen struck Ichigo down. He saw Ichimaru’s eyes widen slightly. A rare show of emotion. He distantly heard Urahara Taicho shout Ichigo’s name, all he could do was turn his head towards the source of Ichimaru’s expression. He was met with the sight of Aizen’s arm exiting Ichigo’s back. Aizen merely shook the blood off his arm and had his troops retreat.

Being the closest, he rushed to catch the falling warrior. He could still feel the warm blood rapidly cooling as it dripped onto his hands. Feel how it soaked into his white Captain’s hayori like a gruesome watercolor painting. The smell of blood and salt and sweat. The feel of Ichigo’s body collapsing in his arms as he stopped his fall. Every time he closed his eyes he could still see those soulful orbs staring up at him with a faint smile. The “Byakuya” that fell from his bloodstained lips before he lost consciousness echoing in his ears. 

Urahara reached Ichigo seconds after himself, frantically trying to heal the gaping hole in the man’s chest. The gutted, desperate look that passed over Urahara’s face was not something he thought he would ever forget; if he could have seen his own face, he is certain it would have had the same expression. As Ichigo rapidly bled out in their arms he could only think that this was his fate; to see everyone he cared about die, to have them literally die in his arms again and again. First Hisana and now…

And then to have this dropped on him. The confirmation that Ichigo would live but end up suffering something even more terrible. They all would. His mask was shattered, the weight of the man’s words falling heavily on his shoulders until he had to force himself to remain standing on his failing legs. He must look a wreck, his hair stuck to his pale face by cold sweat and cold tears of anguish.

He paid no mind to the muffled call from his sister and Fukutaicho. 

Ichigo inhaled shakily, Shiro had moved to stand behind him to put his arms around his own so that they both shared the grief of their loss. Ichigo swallowed thickly and continued to speak, “Was it my destiny, my fate; was it prophesy, judgement, or divine will; was it HIS plan; was it my fault, no one’s fault? When those tiny, petal pink threads were brushed away like a common spider web; unforgiving, uncaring, I had never felt such pain. I nearly lost my mind. I would have, had it not been for the last of those four strong, golden ribbons holding me together.”

He opened his eyes, still unseeing as they glazed over. “One by one, I Iost the sound of their voices and saw the glow dim and flicker out. When the last drop of blood was spilt, I thought the pain of their deaths would drag me with them as well. 

This body has a heart to pump life through my veins. But I have no Heart; this body is a void. The hunger of the hollow does not affect me, instead the emptiness rattles inside me and I feel their losses like I am missing my limbs. They took my will, my love, my hope, and my soul; my heart became ash, but they left this shell. There is nothing left in the Three Worlds and there is nothing left in me.”

“Ichigo…” his three spirits whispered, finally at a loss for what to say.

A long moment passed as everyone gathered digested the enormity of what Ichigo had told them. Ichigo just stared at them and his Zanpakutō, not making any moves to speak or leave.

“…Master. I may be speaking out of turn, and I weep with you, but… perhaps we could examine this place, these beings. Or whatever this is…” Muramasa hesitatingly started. He wished to draw his Master’s thoughts away from their tragedies.

The elder Zanpakutō spirit hummed in thought and nodded. “The idea has merit Aruji, before anything else, we must first uncover the mystery of this place and these people,” Old Man Zangetsu said, “however painful, we must not dwell on the unchangeable.”

Taking this as an invitation, Urahara tentatively took the initiative. It was his machine that had pulled this man here, it was his fault and problem, and he could not deny the pull to comfort the man any longer. He stepped forward and softly call his name, “Ichigo.”

He paused in his movement forward when the orangette violently flinched and took a step back. He sucked in with a rattling breath but didn’t flee, he looked worryingly close to swooning. His three spirits stood behind him in support.

Urahara figured just jumping into an explanation would be the quickest and easiest route to get them all on the same page.

“Ichigo. I know you are frightened. I know you believe what you are seeing is an illusion or shadow or some vision. What you see before you is very real, however. I swear to you,” he took off his hat and stared into those flaming amber eyes, “you could say this is my fault, yet again,” he grimaced self-deprecatingly.

“I am not sure from what time I have inadvertently pulled you from, but in this time we are still at war with Aizen Sousuke and his forces. The you in this time is about twenty years of age,” he swallowed with a click, “currently you are in a coma after receiving a rather grievous wound from Aizen.”

He didn’t take his eyes off Ichigo, couldn’t. Slowly the man had begun recomposing himself and was staring at Kisuke with a look he couldn’t quite decipher.

“He is tellin’ tha truth Aibou,” Shiro breathed out.

“…I…I know…” Ichigo said just as quietly, unbelievingly. “I cannot feel any spiritual connection with any of them, but if I am in the past…”

“If we are indeed in the past, it would stand to reason that the you of this time would be bonded to them, not yourself,” Muramasa concluded. 

“The feel of their Reiatsu, the well of their Reiyoku, every sense could be fabricated by Aizen, Ywach, and by the Soul King…” Ichigo interjected.

Yamamoto startled at the mention of the Quincy Emperor. Ichigo had made mention of an Emperor who used shadows…and of a false King…The Soul King? The implications…

He could see others jolt to attention at the mention of their unseen King. They served the being after all. To hear Ichigo imply that such a being had been part of the reason for Ichigo’s despair and for the end of the Three Worlds - the job of protecting it was the King’s sole purpose - was both unbelievable and gut-wrenchingly sickening to think about.

“That is true Aruji,” Zangetsu agreed with a solemn nod, “but when pushed, the copies would never be as strong as the original.”

Muramasa continued, “They could also create copies of a Zanpakutō’s shape and powers. But these were not at full strength as well. Most importantly, spiritual bonds are extremely complex. The only being who could come close to manufacturing such a thing was the Soul King, and even then, when properly tested, failed to pass inspection.”

Shiro nodded sharply, “Tha’s right. Those bastards…” he was cut off with a sharp look from Ichigo, “Aibou ya na we all loved tha man, but he was always a bastard,” Shiro smirked.

Ichigo smiled sadly at the reminder. He unconsciously fingered the indigo rope on his wrist. 

“As I was sayin,’” Shiro continued, “those bastards were damn powerful, but manipulatin’ somethin’ like Reiyoku an’ Zanpakutō copyin’ takes a fuck ton a power,” he sniffed, “they may have been almost indistinguishable, but there’s always somethin.’ There are jus’ some things you can’t know or replicate.”

“Indeed, and I believe I am able to sense amounts of Reiatsu consistent with the time-frame this Urahara Kisuke has provided,” Zangetsu looked at the silent shopkeeper. 

Ichigo didn’t say anything but seemed to be thinking.

“…Master, while it is true you do not have bonds in place with them, it should still be possible for us to confirm they are your bonded, theoretically it should still be possible to create a resonance,” Muramasa said as if coming to a revelation.

Ichigo closed his eyes. He looked so tired. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out if these souls were real or not. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.

He sighed heavily. “…I suppose we might as well. What have I got to lose,” he gave out a broken laugh.

The sound made Kisuke flinch. It hurt his heart to hear Ichigo so distraught. He felt slightly hurt that Ichigo didn’t trust him at his word but given the information about the elaborate illusions the man had endured, he could see why.

The three spirits took a step back, giving Ichigo more room. “Reveal yourselves to me,” he said into the air softly.

Everyone looked around the room trying to figure out who Ichigo was referring to but didn’t see anyone in the shadows or corners. They all forced themselves not to move when the air around Ichigo began to warp slightly.

The being who came out caused many to inhale sharply. 

It was undoubtedly Ichigo as well. This one had long orange hair, plaited into a long braid, it was just as lively as ever, and his bangs fell into serious eyes. Instead of a kimono, he wore white skinny jeans, ripped at the knee and thigh, and a white hoodie with the hood down. He wore several black belts and black chains on his waist and had a pair of black combat boots. It was the large, black Quincy cross hanging from his neck that drew their attention though. 

Uryuu stared at it in confusion, looking from one Ichigo to the next. He received a soft smile from this other Kurosaki Ichigo.

Again, the air twisted, and another figure appeared, this one was vastly different than the others. His hair was long and dark as night. His eyes were an eerie blood-red. He wore a Shinigami shihakusho but it was severely tattered at the ends of the legs and the sleeves had been ripped off. The white obi was similarly tattered. The wide chest of the hakama allowed them to see gray bandages winding their way up his chest and ending over the bridge of his nose. His bared arms were covered in these same gray wrappings as well as black, flame-like brand marks. 

He was an imposing and serene figure. His gaze seemed to take in everything and stared piercingly at everyone gathered as if peering through their souls. He seemed to be looking for someone, but the draw of his brows showed that he did not find them among their number. He looked saddened as he turned to Ichigo as if in question.

“Ah. I’m sorry Mu, it appears our wolf isn’t here. As you heard, we are supposedly in the time of the Winter War. You didn’t fight him until later in the War, right?” Ichigo asked not unkindly.

The raven-haired man shook his head slightly.

“He is still fighting on Aizen’s side of the War right now, he will not recognize us yet,” Ichigo finished slightly wistful.

The ruby orbs turned away from Ichigo to stare at the ground. 

“If it makes ya feel any better Mu-Mu, ma blue-haired idiot’s na here either,” Shiro said with his hands on his hips in frustration. The quiet man seemed to perk up a little at this. 

“Ossan,” Ichigo looked to his older looking Zanpakutō spirit.

Old Man Zangetsu drew his own Zanpakutō. Some of the jumpier in the room twitched toward their own, but the movement drew Ichigo’s attention; one look into his eyes had them staying their hands. The look was both sad, chastising, and slightly bemused. 

Inhaling, the sunglasses-wearing shade intoned in a deep baritone, “Bankai: Tensa Zangetsu.”

A small outpouring of reiatsu shifted the air and ruffled the clothing and hair of the group of beings surrounding Ichigo. A smaller, younger looking shade appeared next to the other. His outfit was much the same but had a hood on his cloak. His hair was just above shoulder length, brown and wavy. His eyes were a shocking blue color. In his hand he held a Zanpakutō they all recognized as Ichigo’s Bankai. 

Looking from one being to the other, everyone was now even more confused as to what was going on.

Yamamoto’s eyebrows had steadily climbed higher and higher on his wrinkled forehead as more and more shades appeared from Ichigo. The boy was certainly an anomaly, a miracle; he kept the old man on his toes at any rate.

Isshin’s jaw was in a permanent open state. He looked haunted still from Ichigo’s speech not a few minutes earlier, but incredulity was slowly taking over as he saw the different reflections of his son appear.

Byakuya had put himself mostly back into sorts. Though he was doing about as well as Hirako and Urahara. There were many questions he had about the kinds of bonds Ichigo had mentioned and about his place as one of Ichigo’s soul mates. He wondered at the different shades surrounding Ichigo. Were they the same being? Were they each separate? He couldn’t bring himself to think any longer on the gentle way Ichigo had spoken as he described his last broken bonds.

Hirako had cottoned onto the mention Shiro had made about a bastard they loved, one whom wasn’t in the room with them. The disquieting factor was the mention of him in conjunction with Ywach and the Soul King. This meant Shiro was most likely implying…that man was one of Ichigo’s mates. 

He sneered. He wouldn’t accept that. The man had, only a few days ago, shoved his arm through Ichigo’s chest. On top of all his other reservations, what kind of mate does that?

Urahara’s mind was working faster and faster trying to assemble the pieces of this puzzle and sort out all the information flooding his senses. 

This was unprecedented!

His inner scientist was practically euphoric at the seeming splitting of Ichigo’s soul into separate beings. The part of him who loved the man before him though, had much the same concerns as Kuchiki Taicho and Hirako. Aizen… he grimaced. He wondered how that could ever work. Ichigo had said they came together with destruction equal to an atomic bomb. In this case, that was entirely believable.

The other pressing question he had was the nature of each separate spirit in relation to Ichigo’s soul bonds. Muramasa was an outside entity he would wager, and Zangetsu – both ‘Ossan’ and ‘Tensa’ were also Zanpakutō manifestations. He was unsure how they would factor in. Shiro Zangetsu was a hollow, but at the same time, he had become half of Ichigo’s ‘Zangetsu.’ 

The rest… Ichigo, ‘Mu,’ and an unnamed Quincy, were all reflections of each other…

If his mind could overheat like a computer, it would be right now as he tried to compute all the possibilities. On top of this was the need to assure Ichigo that he, Kisuke, was a real, flesh and blood being. He was willing to do whatever Ichigo wanted to help prove this. There had to be a reason this man had come through to them.

He had been right in that the answer on the paper was indeed ‘Ichigo.’ It also appeared that most, if not all, of them would live to see Aizen ‘defeated.’ How far had Ichigo come? Could his coming back have been the work of this being Ichigo mentioned, Zen-Ou? What was the purpose of this exact Ichigo arriving in this time? This Ichigo had lost everything and was on the verge of giving up on life. 

Could they possibly help each other?

Since the moment Ichigo had appeared before them, they seemed to all be in silent agreement to not speak unless necessary. At first it was in shock and then in grief as they cried silently. Then it became a necessity to not distract the man from his story; after he had finished and began to wonder at where he was, Urahara had made the decision for them. 

They realized by the man’s violent reaction to just the sound of Kisuke’s voice, that talking or addressing the man themselves may be a hinderance to their goal of getting answers with the added detriment of Ichigo’s continued distress. They remained as quiet as they could in the face of too many unknowns, their need to comfort the orange-haired man, and when they were presented with not only Ichigo, but with seven separate beings. 

It was clear who was in charge though, even in his exhausted and downtrodden state, Ichigo commanded everyone’s presence. Even as the other spirits offered their opinions and interjections, it was Ichigo who made the calls. The six of them looked to Ichigo for instruction now that they had all been assembled. He seemed to be more grounded and slightly more secure now that all of them were manifested in the outside world. 

“Perhaps some clarification on my nature and the nature of soul bonds would be a proper place to begin,” it seemed he had shifted into a quasi ‘leader mode.’

He continued quietly, “I was once called Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo. I am a being known as the Heikō. Roughly translated, it means equalizer or balancer; something that is a little bit of everything in spiritual composition, in simple terms. The official title I hold is Tamashi no Kami (God of Souls) or Hikari no Kami (God of Light). I have also been called Hi no Ou, (King of the Sun), as the light of the sun eternally shines over creation, even in the darkness of night and winter. All these titles refer to my status as the highest being in the Three Worlds tasked with keeping the balance of the Worlds and their souls. More accurately I am what you might call a deity.”

Several eyebrows went up at the statement.

“I will not go into details, what you need to know is that I was destined to inherit this position. There are forces in this universe which we call the Fates: Kismet, Karma, and Death, they are supposed to keep the fabric of the Universe from falling apart. These were born from a being called Zen-Ou, he is Truth and Reality; the being who created the Three Worlds and this Universe. He is an entity of great power and is largely impartial and uninvolved. 

As a Balancer, I would be responsible for the maintenance of the Three Worlds, the reincarnation cycle, and all of the souls therein. I was charged with finding proper leaders for each of the Worlds, stabilizing them, and ushering in an era of peace. We had precious few years of peace and prosperity.”

He paused, his eyes misty in remembrance. “This time of peace was destroyed by the being Soul Society refers to as the Soul King, and by his heir the Quincy progenitor and Emperor Ywach. I was still relatively young in my power, and I was not strong enough to battle the forces the two of them unleashed. I lost everything…” he trailed off.

“Aibou…”

“Master…”

The orange-haired Quincy stepped slightly forward, relieving Ichigo. “Each of us is a part of the being Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo. We embody certain parts of his makeup. We are one and yet each of us is separate; we have our own thoughts and personalities, we have our own bonds and our own special abilities. Yet we are all Ichigo in essence.

As Ichigo explained, he is made up of a little bit of everything. I suppose you could call him the original Ichigo, the principal body. Excluding Muramasa, the rest of us were ‘born’ inside Ichigo and can reside there if we so choose.

Zangetsu is made up of three parts, three separate beings. 1, Ichigo’s Quincy power mixed with his Shinigami power and created Zangetsu Ossan. His hollow, 2, emerged as the manifestation of his Visored or Arrancar power; we call him Shiro Zangetsu. When released in Shikai together they take the form of two separate blades. In Bankai, the two merge into one. Tensa Zangetsu, 3, was created when Ichigo first learned to unleash Bankai. As Ichigo learned to summon his hollow powers during his Bankai state, Tensa learned to do the same.”

Tensa nodded, pulling a horned mask down over his face, his hair bleaching white and his sclera bleeding black. He dismissed it with a swish of his hand.

“When Ichigo faced Aizen alone the first time he pushed himself to his very limits. This was when myself and Mu came into existence. We were out of options, and ready to sacrifice our power if that’s what it would take to defeat Aizen. We went into battle expecting just that,” his lip pulled down.

“The Final Getsuga Tensho.”

Isshin jolted so violently those around him turned to stare at him in open confusion at his whitened expression.

“It is a technique which first draws in all of our Reiatsu and turns it into pure physical power; this is when I awoke. At the time I had a katana which was no more than an ordinary sword to fight with. All my Reiyoku was focused inward. The raw physical strength I had was more than enough to begin with in my fight against Aizen. The next stage involves all our Reiyoku merging into one. All of Ichigo’s fragments merge into one ball of extreme spiritual power which is expelled in one final attack; the Saigo no Getsuga Tensho.” He paused making sure everyone was following.

“This merging created Mugetsu, he is an entity you could say is both a living being and a manifested Zanpakutō. His reiatsu even back then was powerful enough to warp and disintegrate matter. Mu is technically the one who defeated Aizen. A wound he dealt during that fight continued to hinder Aizen and his connection to the Hogyoku. Eventually, we defeated him.”

Mu nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“Afterword, we expected to forfeit all our spiritual powers. The process would have been long and painful, and we would all cease to exist.”

Such a statement was met with horrified silence. They would have made a sacrifice of this man, at the time, only a child.

“This did not come to pass, however. Instead, Mu was drawn back in as our Reiyoku tried to re-stabilize itself. Working in reverse, I was once more manifested as Ichigo’s Hollow, Shinigami, and Zanpakutō energies were taken back into our core. I am a representation of Ichigo’s human self. A being which normally only has its raw physical power. But Ichigo is not a regular human.”

“A Quincy,” both Ishida uttered.

He nodded, “Just so. With access to our Reiyoku, I was now able to draw on our Quincy bloodline. My katana became my bow,” he pulled the large cross off its blackened chain and summoned forth his bow. The bow was made of dark blue, almost black energy rather than the customary Quincy blue and was almost as long as himself.

Dismissing the bow, he continued, “I needed help learning my new-found abilities, of course, Ishida Oji-san was more than happy to accommodate,’’ he smiled.

Ryuuken hummed and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Ichigo, Mugetsu, and myself are simply reflections of each other. Our personalities reflect different aspects of Ichigo’s character and the source of our powers differs, but essentially, we are all connected by Ichigo’s consciousness.”

He received many puzzled looks.

“Hmm…Put simply…there are seven of us who make up Ichigo’s being, and of those seven, three are Zanpakutō; beings which originate inside the principal soul. Shiro is a hollow, originally of outside origin, he appeared in Ichigo’s soul during his birth. The last three of us are…” He trailed off, looking for the right phrasing.

“I would say triplets, but since you are the same person… It’s like having three Ichigo’s!” Isshin exclaimed.

“I guess you could put it like that,” he rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish smile that was instantly recognizable as a wholly ‘Ichigo’ gesture.

“I see…this shouldn’t even be possible…three ‘copies’ of the same principle soul…” Kisuke muttered.

“My beautiful son! If you don’t mind me asking, what do you call yourself? I imagine it would be confusing if all three of you were called ‘Ichigo,’ Isshin asked; he looked delighted to have gained more children.

The one bearing the Quincy cross looked slightly startled to realize he hadn’t introduced himself. Surprisingly he blushed slightly as he began to answer, “…Uh, well…” he coughed, and then turned to look at Uryuu.

Uryuu jerked slightly when he realized he was receiving the man’s full attention, with a blush no less.

“Truthfully, it was Uryuu’s insistence on calling me by my last name that did it,” he smiled. “Even after we became close and I started using his first name, he refused to call me anything other than ‘Kurosaki.’”

Grinning slightly in amusement at Uryuu’s growing embarrassment, “Eventually he dropped the honorifics but…” he shrugged, “then I split into three; ‘Mugetsu’ was named for his technique, and it was kind of an unsaid agreement that Ichigo remain ‘Ichigo,’ as for myself, I just went with ‘Kurosaki’,” he relayed softly. 

“My mother was a Quincy and she was the last of the Kurosaki Clan, so it was decided I would carry the name. But really, I think I chose it because ‘Kurosaki’ was the name Uryuu always called me by.”

Uryuu’s face was brighter than a tomato and he resisted the urge to bury his face into his hands. He pushed his glasses up in his signature tick, “Typical, you’ve always been terrible with coming up with anything original,” he said mock snootily, he paused, “Kurosaki.” The pink in Kurosaki’s cheeks began to spread at the way Uryuu said his name.

He made an embarrassed cough to regain everyone’s focus, he knew they were all amused.

“I’ll continue from here, Kurosaki, thank you,” Ichigo placed a hand gently on his shoulder. His face was still drawn with sorrow and he looked desperate to believe this was really happening. He didn’t want to let himself hope, lest it crush him further when it turned out to be a dream.

“Bonds,” he began seriously, “while there are such things as soul mates and soul bonds, such a concept hasn’t been common knowledge in many millennia; the process of recognizing a bond, of forming a bond, or securing those bonds had been lost to time. 

Souls form superficial bonds on their own and these connect souls through the course of that one life. The more powerful the soul, the greater the chance their soul will form bonds which may last even through rebirth and will continue to meet in the next life. Powerful souls have the ability to form bonds which are soul deep and eternal. Because I was connected to every living soul, this meant I was bonded to every living soul,” he sighed, “I was able to see the threads connecting others to me and the threads connecting others to each other.”

He looked up at them, catching there gaze finally, “I mentioned in passing the types of bonds I associate with myself; I saw these bonds as varying kinds of thread and color. Each color had meaning; each color represented a bond type. These bonds come in varying levels of strength and number depending on each individual soul.”

He began, “I had a special bond with living souls; one which was only applicable to myself. From the sands of Hueco Mundo, to the people of Karakura-cho, to the districts in the Rukongai, I felt each and every life. All life was precious to me. These souls were like stars glowing in the dark. These threads were thin and white.

Then there were threads as blue as the sky, light bonds with the people I was more personally aware of; the unseated members of the Gotei, various Arrancar, Quincy.

The bonds I formed with my close allies, close friends, ones who were under my direct protection glimmered emerald green.

My family, ones I considered family; these ones I gathered close to me, they were welcome in my heart and home always,” he smiled tearfully and teased, “we grew and grew, and not just because Rukia wanted a large family.” 

“What!” Rukia let out a particularly high-pitched squeak from her place next to Renji.

“Royal purple, Murasaki, soft threads,” he said.

“My sparkling silver threads wound their way through my fingers, as if to help guide me. These threads were my mentors and teachers, those I looked to when I was lost.

A soul is not constrained, it loves freely. They seek those which are compatible with them and they hold tight, never wanting to be severed. Consorts,” his eyes caught the room’s in their golden gaze, “Crimson. Threads the color of roses, passion, red bonds wound through my soul and around each part of my being,” he glanced at the others at his side and gestured slightly at them, “these carmine bonds stitched our broken pieces together.

Soul Mates; that destined other half somewhere in the Three Worlds searching for you as you search for them. They knew me better than I knew myself,” his eyes slid closed as he placed a hand on his heart, “being bound to them was to have your own heart beat with theirs. Those threads were more gold, brighter, than a thousand suns. To be without them...” he trailed off.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his reddened eyes. “...pink…” but he couldn’t finish, no one really wanted him to either. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he turned to Kurosaki and Mugetsu, both were in a similar state.

“Shiro,” Kurosaki bit out, his voice raw and hoarse.

Shiro stepped forward as the other two pulled Ichigo further back and into their arms.

“Well, now tha’ that’s out a tha way,” he put his hands on his hips and glared at all of them. “Now ya kna’ wha’ we are an’ shit, an’ ya kna enough crap abou’ bonds. Any questions?”

Even if they had any, Shiro bulldozed right along regardless.

“No? Good,” he sniffed. “I’m with King on this one. I don’ trust any a’ ya. Even if ya are tellin’ tha truth, ya ain’t tha same people we used ta kna,” he glared harder, “which means I don’ trust ya with King, ‘nough said,” he sniffed derisively.

“Now, we’re gonna have a little meet’n’greet, an’ le’s hope fer yur sake ya are tellin’ tha truth. Ya get me?” The look on Shiro’s face was positively vicious and made those closest want to back away. His teeth looked impossibly sharp as his grin stretched near ear to ear.

Zangetsu Ossan smartly took over from there before someone looked at the hollow wrong and he decided to take a chunk out of them. “Unfortunately, since it appears there are key figures missing from this situation, we will not be able to confirm some of our Soul Mate or Consort bonds,” he frowned.

“Even just one familial bond is enough for me I suppose… those are the next strongest,” Tensa stated seriously.

Shiro spun around incredulously, “Wha’ tha hell, Tensa, did ya na’ hear wha’ I just said?!” He fumed, “jus’ one, an yer ready ta play house, huh?”

“Shiro.”

Everyone froze, including Shiro who had been wildly gesticulating as he yelled. The voice was husky and deep, muffled slightly, but the tone was sharp and reprimanding. It was the first time they had heard from the one called ‘Mugetsu’ since he materialized, and he was not happy.

Shiro, who had broken out in a cold sweat at the menacing aura the raven-haired man was sending his way, quickly made it clear he was backing down from the situation.

“Your Soul Mate is not here,” Mugetsu stated matter of fact.

Shiro flinched.

“I understand,” he said somewhat softer. “Patience. Those who wait are often rewarded.”

It was clear Mugetsu was the most serious out of the three Ichigos. He commanded a stern countenance, and his manner was wise and regal. He may have felt the same emotionally as the others but continued to put up a strong front. 

Shiro nodded sullenly as he crossed his arms.

Ichigo took this moment to step forward. He had recomposed himself, taking a page out of Mugetsu’s book. 

“…I think it is…safer…to begin with the Zanpakutō…” he trailed off.

Muramasa stepped forward, “Master, would it not be best if I go first. For as long as you have been my Master, and I am eternally grateful for your love, I am still a being who existed outside of your soul; I am one who was not born within you.”

Well, that answered the question Yamamoto had since the strange man had appeared. Kurosaki Ichigo was the only man in the history of the Three Worlds to wield more than one Zanpakutō. This was not just any Zanpakutō either, this was a Zanpakutō with the power to manifest, communicate, and manipulate other Zanpakutō. 

Muramasa had once belonged to Kuchiki Koga, until the man was framed for crimes he did not commit, and he went off the deep end. The sword was thought to have been sealed with the man himself. Either this was not the case, or Ichigo had, at some point, needed to confront Koga and Muramasa in the future. 

Either way, the Zanpakutō was clearly completely loyal to Kurosaki Ichigo. Any issues he might have had vanished the more he saw the two interact. Looking over at Kuchiki Taicho, he noticed the man no longer seemed bothered by the shade’s appearance. Kuchiki was intelligent enough to come to the same conclusions he had; even more than himself, Kuchiki Taicho trusted Kurosaki at his word.

Everyone waited on bated breath for the flame-haired man to respond to the entreating Zanpakutō. Ichigo looked into his eyes and, seeming to find firm resolve within them, he nodded and allowed the green-eyed man to go first. 

Muramasa’s boots clicked on the wooden floor as he stepped out from the group and moved forward towards the others gathered in the room.


	3. The Man Who Knew Too Much and The Bloody Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperation and hope finally convincing him to take action, Ichigo allows Muramasa to confront one of his bond mates. 
> 
> It just so happens that this bond is with a very spiteful and terrifying Zanpakuto. 
> 
> Everyone is appropriately ready to flee, even her wielder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was some confusion regarding how much of this fic is completed. I have 4 chapter written, so once those 4 have been posted I am not sure how long it will be before I continue this fic. Thanks :)

Chapter 3

When Ichigo had first appeared, Kisuke had stopped at the front of the group but there was still a sizeable gap between the two. Muramasa walked closer until he was facing the pinstriped man with only a foot between them. He locked eyes with Kisuke and was pleased when his silver gaze met his unflinchingly.

“Urahara Kisuke,” he addressed the man. “If this is indeed the past as you say, then I feel there need be no secrets between us. The truth will come out eventually, there is no need to hide the uncomfortable when we all will need to work together in the end,” he paused.

Urahara was hesitant but nodded his agreement. 

“Good. That said, I am sure you and some others have figured out who Master’s fourth soul mate is?”

Urahara grimaced but nodded again.

Muramasa smirked, “It seems this idea displeases you,” he gave a chuckle, “although it is of little comfort to you, I am sure, know that everything will be sorted in time. For those of you who have not figured it out, the man I am referring to is Aizen Sousuke,” Muramasa stated nonchalantly.

There were several horrified gasps and quiet exclamations of disbelief. The very idea was ludicrous!

Hirako and Byakuya both grimaced at the confirmation. They looked over at Ichigo who had remained silent through Muramasa’s explanation. He was smiling sadly. Whether this was at the reactions of those around him or at the memory of said man they couldn’t say.

“Right now, this is not important, seeing as the man is not here and Master cannot confirm their bond.”

Ichigo’s movement to once again finger the indigo band with the moon pendant on his left wrist caught everyone’s attention. The woven bracelet took on new meaning in that moment; the other trinkets must have some special meaning as well.

“The chief reason I make mention of this now is because my own Gold Bond is with Aizen Sousuke’s Zanpakutō, Kyoka Suigetsu; he is, of course, not here as well,” Muramasa frowned.

Yamamoto hummed lowly in thought. Certainly, he could not see how this union would come to be, but this was not what concerned him at the moment. It was instead the union between Kyouka Suigetsu and Muramasa. Both were illusion type Zanpakutō and both had the potential to be extremely powerful and extremely dangerous. While he trusted Kurosaki to keep his Zanpakutō in line, he could not say the same for Aizen Sousuke.

“I will instead be feeling out one of my Murasaki Bonds, a familial connection. The strongest two I had were with Benihime and Sakanade; both are Zanpakutō of Master’s Soul Mates.  
I wish to ask you, Urahara Kisuke, if you will permit me to connect with Benihime,” Muramasa questioned.

Sweating a bit under the intense gaze of the Spirit and the severity of the situation he asked, “What would I need to do to assist you?”

“You must unseal her, that is all,” he said simply, “I will do the rest. Since our bonds have been severed, and thus we essentially have no outside bonds besides the ones between the seven of ourselves, we must make a connection on our own if it is possible,” he looked at Urahara gravely, “each of us has a different way of doing so with each of our bond mates. My methods are simple because of my Shikai ability to manifest and communicate with Zanpakutō; my voice is enough to get the spirit to respond, from there I can try making a connection, if said connection is possible.”

Ichigo added, “In order to create soul resonance, both parties must either connect through their Reiatsu or through their Reiyoku, their core, Muramasa naturally does this because of his abilities but in the case of others, a more…personal... touch is needed.”

Their audience was riveted to the conversation. Little was known about Zanpakutō in general, much less any type of bonding. Most Shinigami never tapped into the full potential of their Zanpakutō, and most simply thought of their Zanpakutō as just a tool rather than an actual spirit or being. 

“Indeed,” Muramasa continued, “this method could be anything of significance between the pair, it could be the method in which their bond was formed, or it could be the method they solidified that bond. There is no ‘one way’ when it comes to souls.” 

Urahara nodded and began the commands to unseal Benihime from her shikomizue form. He presented the katana to Muramasa, placing her onto his palms. Inhaling in slight apprehension, he waited to see what Muramasa would do, or more worryingly, what Benihime might do. Benihime was not a nice woman. She was vicious and cruel when she wanted to be. She was only respectful to those she deemed worthy and all others she scorned. She notoriously did not get along with many other Zanpakutō. Muramasa was unconcerned it seemed.

It was a good sign that his hands had not immediately been burned when he placed the katana in them. 

Everyone strained to see what the man would do to connect with Benihime. The ones behind Muramasa seemed eager and hopeful at the prospect of reconnecting to their lost Bonded. Ichigo, Kurosaki, and Mugetsu continued to look mostly indifferent and detached; inside, Ichigo was terrified that this would turn out to be another farce.

Muramasa closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to center himself. He felt the crimson, hot Reiatsu heating his palms where they touched the blade. He smelled the spicy scent he had come to associate with Benihime. 

“Okiro: Benihime紅姫.”  
*(Awaken: Crimson Princess)

The response was immediate. The katana immediately released a hot wave of crimson reiatsu and a high-pitched shriek reverberated off the walls. The noise was so loud, many rushed to cover their ears.

Muramasa remained unmoved. His eyes still closed and his face not even twitching a muscle. He continued to hold the katana even as his hands visibly reddened. Eventually, the screaming died off and the fierce Reiatsu drew back into the blade. 

Seeming to brace himself, Muramasa intoned, “Bankai,” and slit his hand along the blade, smearing blood down the length.

Everyone started. No one here besides the Soutaicho had ever seen Urahara Kisuke’s Bankai. There was an air of trepidation but excited curiosity as they waited to see what would happen.

Yamamoto’s eyes cracked open in surprise. As far as he knew, Muramasa had never been able to control a Bankai. When Koga commanded him, the Zanpakutō still had trouble with stronger Shikai. This was attributed to the strength and experience of the wielder…which meant… Kurosaki Ichigo had, of course, been able to unlock Muramasa’s Bankai. He was able to wield the sword to its full potential. 

Urahara’s eyes widened in shock and then increasing horror, “W-Wait!” He flailed uncharacteristically, not sure if he dared touch the katana or Muramasa.

“Kisuke.” A firm command made him look up sharply to Ichigo; his panic lessening as his own grey eyes locked with burning amber.

“Trust me?”

He didn’t have to think about his answer, he breathed, “always.”

Ichigo smiled a small true smile in response, the first real smile he had shown them since he had appeared. It was radiant. His face fleetingly revealed adoration; it felt as if they had all been cocooned in warmth. Urahara positively melted.

“You are not a danger to us Kisuke. We know you, all of you,” it was said so simply and Kisuke felt the air leave his lungs in shock, in hope, in a stirring of love; he was suddenly so happy he thought he might start crying again.

Muramasa continued, “Bankai: Kannonbiraki Benihime Aratame観音開紅姫改メ.”  
*(Modification of the Crimson Princess' Dissection at the Doors of Kannon [Avalokiteśvara]) 

While the katana remained in his hands, a large woman rose up from behind him. Her great mass reaching the high, vaulted ceiling easily. Her hair was bright crimson and stood out starkly like blood on her revealing white kimono which spilled on the floor behind him. Her arms resembled those of a mannequin and draped themselves over his still body. 

Her closed eyes moved downward with her face, until her head had somehow made itself level with his shoulder. Her body contorted into the small space. Her chin was at his shoulder, her enormous eyes opening wide like black pits, they were each as large as his own head.

The sight was frankly terrifying to behold since no one had the faintest idea what Benihime’s Bankai could do.

Kisuke felt sick chills roll over his body as he stared into her eyes. It was like looking into a black void. He was proud of his Benihime, truly, but she rightly filled him with terror on occasion. 

“I have missed you, Benihime Oba-sama,” Muramasa said quietly, almost imploringly, like a child to its parent. His demeanor was completely different than a second before, and yet fit perfectly next to Benihime’s enormous size. Her draping limbs and hair seeming to enfold him in a hug. 

Benihime did not speak her reply, her lips pulled into a small smile before she pressed her cheek to his. The blood staining her blade faded and Muramasa’s split hand began stitching itself closed. The redness faded from his healed palms. 

She tilted her head. Seeming to reply to a question only he could hear, Muramasa said, “Hai, Oba-sama. Zangetsu is manifested here as well.”

She was so large she could not see around herself and since there was no bond between her and this Zangetsu Ossan, she was unaware of his presence. Her face brightened, and her eyes shut in silent happiness. Comically, she butted Muramasa’s head with her cheek just on this side of too rough and he physically was given a command to hurry up and bring forward her mate.

“As you wish, Oba-sama,” he said slightly miffed.

Ukitake tried to hide a smile behind his hand at the cute pout the man gave when Zangetsu strode forward and commanded Benihime’s attention. He placed a hand softly on her milk-white cheek, “You look as resplendent as ever, my Bloody Princess,” the spirit’s deep baritone caressed the words as they rolled out his mouth and straight into her ear. 

Urahara had the bizarre experience of seeing his Zanpakutō blush for the first time since he learned her name.

After a long moment in which the two held a silent conversation, Zangetsu bid her goodbye with a kiss to the cheek. He floated back to his place by Tensa in deep contemplation as the large woman rubbed her cheek over Muramasa head, effectively ruining his artfully styled hair.

“O-Oba-sama!” Muramasa said in exasperation.

Benihime seemed pleased with her work and began to sink even further down until she seemed to descend into the floor and away into the shadows. Once she had disappeared Muramasa handed the still recovering Urahara Kisuke his Katana back.

“My gratitude Urahara Kisuke,” Muramasa bowed slightly at the waist.

“My pleasure,” he said somewhat faintly. 

The room was quiet as they waited to hear Muramasa’s verdict.

“…I am sorry Master…”

Ichigo was so stunned and horrified his speech died in his throat.

Urahara was internally panicking and trying to think of a way to do damage control.

Muramasa continued, “…I was able to reach Benihime and communicate with her as I used to, and her power felt… believable… but… the bond…” he swallowed. “…I was unable to fully connect our Reiatsu or our Reiyoku… Had I made a true connection, Benihime would have regressed down from her large Bankai form into her principal form…” he finished slightly shaky.

There was a long, loaded moment of silence broken by Ichigo’s gasping voice, “Zangetsu?” He choked out.

“…Hmmm…It is possible a Murasaki bond is too weak a bond for us to try. We already have the disadvantage of not having the slightest bit of a bond to start with,” he paused. “…It is true that Benihime’s power felt much the same as I remember it being at this time, but in order to fully ascertain its true level I would need to cross blades with her. And… ”

Urahara inhaled sharply.

“I have no wish to do so. Rest easy Urahara Kisuke,” the man said in pacification. “While this method would work, it would also be very…hazardous to all our health, especially in the case of this being an allusion, Aruji,” he looked into Ichigo’s dimming eyes, “and on the chance this is reality and Benihime finds out I have doubted her or am fighting her for such a reason…” he went quiet, “well, let’s not think on such things,” he ended awkwardly.

The room looked between Urahara and Zangetsu and Ichigo and Muramasa and back, stupefied at the situation.

The quiet was broken by a comment Renji had tried to say under his breath and failed miserably, “what the fuck is wrong with these people and their terrifying Zanpakutō?!” he said hysterically.

This was met with many glares in Renji’s direction and an outburst of maniacal laughter from Kenpachi.

The sound seemed to have drawn Ichigo’s attention out of his increasingly depressed thoughts; he looked at Muramasa, who looked truly upset at having failed him, to Kisuke who was looking increasingly more frazzled, over to his duplicates who met his stare with blank looks of their own. 

Breathing as one, Ichigo then huffed and said quietly, “At ease Muramasa, I was doubtful anything less than a Crimson Bond would be sufficient. You’ve done well,” he gave the disheartened Zanpakutō a small smile.

“Of course, Master,” a slightly cheered Muramasa bowed at the waist and walked back to his place next to Shiro with a click of his boots.

“Ossan,” Ichigo turned to the spirit, “why not test your bond with Benihime? Yours is a Soul Mate Bond, why did you not try to make contact when she was manifested earlier?”

Zangetsu looked slightly chastised as he said in a strange tone, “The method in which Benihime and I would have to connect is… not suitable for enclosed spaces…” he said hesitantly.

Everyone stared at the stoic Zanpakutō spirit in astonished bewilderment. 

Shiro cackled quietly at the statement.

“Hahaha. I can sympathize,” he smirked widely. 

Urahara continued to look down at his blade as if seeing her for the first time. 

Kurosaki huffed a laugh, “Okay Ossan. Then how about your other Gold Bond? Sakanade?”

Shinji went ramrod straight at the sudden mention of his Zanpakutō. The amount of information and emotional overload he was experiencing today was straining his nerves and making him quiet and jumpy. He had not been ready for this when he woke up today.

Hiyori gave him a side eye half in concern and half in exasperation. In fact, he had been receiving plenty of concerned looks from his Visords. Ever since Ichigo had shown up and he began talking of bonds and mates and deaths. 

Ichigo and himself were not in a relationship, not yet. They were also not big on making anything obvious either. His group knew though. They could tell he was enamored with the berry-head. His uncharacteristic quietness must be alarming to them. They must think he’s about to have a breakdown, or worse, they think he’s gonna do something stupid.

Zangetsu debated this suggestion quietly. A low verbal rumble accompanied his thoughts. Frowning he finally replied, “at this time, during the war, Sakanade is still being repressed. It wasn’t until after the war ended you were able to help your comrades and mate fully gain control of their hollowified Zanpakutō.”

While the Visored registered this revelation with disbelieving hope, the trio of Ichigo’s merely nodded in agreement; as if the spirit hadn’t just revealed a life changing fact about their future as Shinigami.

Kurosaki’s lip turned down, “…Yes, that’s true. This will impact your ability to make contact I imagine.”

“You are correct, Aruji. Sakanade is sealed. Even if I were to reach her, she would devour me without hesitation. A century locked away from her master and the pain of the hollowification will have driven her mad.”

The Visords looked green with nausea and horror at the idea that they had done just that to their own Zanpakutō. 

Hiyori had plopped onto the ground with her head firmly between her knees.

Urahara’s face was twisted in guilt but he did not say anything to the group; there was nothing he could say to make this better. 

The trio nodded again, deep in thought. This seemed to be something they had expected the spirit to say. “Very well. I apologize, Ossan. I know you miss them as much as any of us,” Kurosaki said guiltily.

The gruff spirit merely waved him off. If this turned out to be the past after all, he would have time later to try with Benihime.

Shinji only vaguely heard what was said after Sakanade had been mentioned. He knew he should be feeling something when he just found out he had a chance to get her back. Should feel something finding out that in order to save himself he had sacrificed her. But he didn’t. Perhaps he was having a breakdown. He ran a tired hand down his face.

His movement drew Ichigo’s gaze. He could see his fiery amber eyes taking him in, categorizing his facial expression, his rumpled appearance, the dark circles under his eyes from sitting up all night at his own Ichigo’s bedside, the bloodshot state of his eyes from lack of sleep and tears, he was pale and clammy and trying to hold himself together.

Ichigo’s face underwent a variety of expression changes. At first, he was blank-faced, Shinji’s tired gesture was met with a slight widening of his large, almond-shaped eyes, and then, as he took in Shinji’s terrible state, he grimaced and then began to frown. It was when he finally locked eyes with Shinji that his face twisted into genuine concern. He seemed to be struggling with himself. 

Shinji knew how hard this must be for him. To be terrified that what you were living was a dream, a nightmare, an illusion, or maybe you were dead and this, this was Hell. So even though he felt like shit, he twitched his lip in what he hoped was something resembling a smile. This was met with uneasy acceptance. He knew, and Ichigo knew he wasn’t doing real hot, but hey, they had more important things to deal with right now. 

Shinji was a Captain for kami-sakes; he needed to pull himself together and at least act like one. He stood up straighter and adjusted his tie. He took a deep breath to center himself, and then he started paying attention.

“Ichigo,” Tensa broke the silence, “May I?”

The trio of Ichigos turned to face him. Ichigo did not respond, he seemed even more closed off than before. Kurosaki gave a small nod to the younger Zanpakutō spirit. 

Tensa walked forward, his black cloak swaying. Stepping up to the unintentional divide in the room, he locked his sights on Kuchiki Byakuya.

The man’s unemotional masks were mostly back in place, but one look into his eyes and Tensa could see a storm rolling behind them. 

The curiosity radiating from the group could practically be felt. No one seemed to know who the small spirit would end up calling for. Byakuya knew though; it seemed fitting that Tensa Zangetsu and his Senbonzakura were Soul Mates. After all, Ichigo’s first fight using Tensa had been against himself and Senbonzakura. He supposed the battle had been a turning point for the four of them. It certainly had been for him.

It was because of this knowledge, Tensa merely had to glance up at him and he immediately walked forward to meet him. 

The silence in the room was so great they could have heard a pin drop.

The two stopped a foot apart, as Muramasa and Urahara had just before. Still looking intensely at each other, Tensa pulled his hood up to cover his face; he unsheathed his katana and held the blade out at his side, pointed downward, the light glinting off the obsidian blade. This stance mirrored the one Ichigo took during battle once he had released his Bankai. 

Aiming to do the same, Byakuya slowly drew Senbonzakura out of the sheath from its place on his hip. He held the blade straight up in front of his face as if he were about to say the release command for his Shikai.

Everyone waited on bated breath to see what would happen next. Surely, they were not going to battle within closed quarters?

Tensa was the one to speak first. Softly he called, “Shatter your masks; turn your face towards mine. Won’t you, Senbonzakura?”

The blade in Byakuya’s hand shattered by itself into a thousand pink petal blades.


	4. The Samurai, the Hooded Figure, and the Frozen Noble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensa steps forward just as Byakuya does. Can Senbonzakura hear his call? Will Ichigo finally have proof he is not inside a waking nightmare?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this is the last chapter I will be posting for this fic as of now. I am hoping that in the future I will return to this fic and give it a proper conclusion, but for now it is finished. Thank you to all of the readers who have followed this fic and left kind words. They mean a lot to me and my continued evolution as a writer. Please keep an eye out for more content in the future and check out my AO3 if you like 😊

Recap:

The silence in the room was so great they could have heard a pin drop.

The two stopped a foot apart, as Muramasa and Urahara had just before. Still looking intensely at each other, Tensa pulled his hood up to cover his face; he unsheathed his katana and held the blade out at his side, pointed downward, the light glinting off the obsidian blade. This stance mirrored the one Ichigo took during battle once he had released his Bankai. 

Aiming to do the same, Byakuya slowly drew Senbonzakura out of the sheath from its place on his hip. He held the blade straight up in front of his face as if he were about to say the release command for his Shikai.

Everyone waited on bated breath to see what would happen next. Surely, they were not going to battle within closed quarters?

Tensa was the one to speak first.

Softly he called, “Shatter your masks; turn your face towards mine. Won’t you, Senbonzakura?”

The blade in Byakuya’s hand shattered by itself into a thousand pink petal blades. 

……………………………………………………………………………  
………………………………………….

Chapter 4

Rather than dispersing about the room, they condensed and writhed in a mass next to Byakuya.

Stepping slightly back to give the incoming spirit room, the noble watched in curiosity for what lay ahead.

When the petals fell away and disappeared a fierce samurai stood in their place. 

His dark hair was long, almost to his feet in a high tail cascading down his back. His garb was purple and gold. He carried his own blade in his gloved hands. The snarling mask on his face was what drew the room’s attention. 

Seeing someone else’s Zanpakutō spirit was almost unheard of and it was deeply personal. 

The appearance and manner of the spirit generally bespoke the character of its wielder. In Byakuya’s case, the masks were a physical representation of his own emotional masks. The armor reflecting his own barriers to the outside world.

This Zanpakutō was regal and fierce, he was a warrior who commanded their attention. He had an air of grace and elegance about him. All these things described Byakuya Kuchiki to a T.

A stern, deep voice, slightly muffled due to the mask, issued forth from the manifested Senbonzakura. 

“Why do you appear before me in arrogance again, my young warrior. Have we not shared victory and loss in battle together? What slight do you accuse me of to withdraw your trust? You demand me remove my mask, yet you cowl your own face,” he asked with a slightly hurt tone.

He paused and tilted his head in thought.

“You appear before me in the guise of my companion, yet you feel not like him at all. Are you not Tensa Zangetsu, imposter?”

A few looked slightly weary at the samurai’s tone. He now sounded furious.

Ukitake tilted his head slightly in thought as he took in the spirit’s appearance and speech. He likened the Zanpakutō to his memories of a younger, much more hot-headed, Kuchiki Byakuya. If this was so, he smiled secretly to himself…this would be entertaining.

“I am Tensa Zangetsu. And yet I am not your Tensa Zangetsu,” the smaller one replied cryptically.

There was a beat of silence before the samurai shouted, “What the Hell do you mean?! You either are or you are not Tensa Zangetsu. There is not grey area here, imposter!” He waved his Zanpakutō around threateningly.

Byakuya let loose a slightly put-out sigh.

“I cannot give another answer. To do so would be a lie; I would not slight your pride by doing so.” 

Senbonzakura lowered his blade slightly.

“…to be Tensa Zangetsu, but not mine…” he contemplated. “I share a bond with Tensa, but I feel nothing from you.”

Tensa nodded.

Senbonzakura radiated an angry and confused air, guard still up, but his sword was loose at his side.

“Rather than your Tensa of the present, I am the Tensa of your future.”

The stern spirit jolted in shock, “Preposterous! You say you do not lie; show me your proof!”

This appeared to be what the young spirit was waiting for. 

Tensa nodded and sheathed his blade in a show of trust. Reaching up slowly he drew back his hood and let it fall back.

He shook his wavy tresses back in place and then looked up to lock his ice blue eyes with the masked man.

Senbonzakura inhaled sharply, the sound almost completely muffled by the red porcelain.

Still gazing up at the samurai, Tensa uttered, 

“To paint the beauty in love  
is to pretend to know her form.  
To paint the ugliness in love  
is to have once arrogantly known her form.”

Byakuya flinched violently at the words, he sharply turned to glance between the two spirits.

It was clear to the others observing, that these words must have meaning to both master and sword.

Senbonzakura did not flinch. Instead he went very still and quiet.

Calmly he sheathed his sword and walked the last steps forward between them.

The two stood, one looking up, the other looking down, silently observing each other.

Senbonzakura had apparently heard the proof he needed, for he lowered himself down onto one knee regally, placing his hands flat on his knee, in front of the other spirit without any defenses.

Tensa finally gave a small, soft smile as the masked face remained upturned to gaze at him. He slowly brought his hands up to place his palms on the samurai’s face. Pausing only for a moment, Tensa then gently lifted the mask away from his mate’s face.

Underneath was a beautiful, pale face with midnight blue eyes and slightly pinkened lips. His nose was nobly straight, his lashes the same dark obsidian of Tensa’s blade. Holding the mask in one hand, Tensa brought the other up to cup a milk-white cheek. They seemed completely lost in each other, enraptured in their gazes. As if pulled by a magnet, their faces drew towards each other until their foreheads touched. Breathing in deeply, they both closed their eyes and reached out to the other with their reiatsu. 

While no one could see the mingling of the two spirit’s energy, save themselves and their wielders, the pressure could definitely be felt by those in the room. 

A minute or two passed before they received any type of reaction. The wait was certainly worth it, because it was a rather positive one. The stoic Tensa’s face lit up, positively radiating happiness, and he ginned widely as he let out a small huff of laughter. The samurai’s lips upturned slightly at the sound of his mate’s joy.

“I expect I should be accustomed to yourself and your wielder pulling off impossible feats; yet you somehow always exceed any preconceived expectations I set for you,” the samurai said in slight exasperation. 

“Nonsense,” Tensa said seriously as they pulled back to look at each other, “The ability to surprise you is one of the qualities you most value in myself,” he paused.

A slightly mischievous look crossed his face, “Humbling you brings me great joy, Senbonzakura.”

The smile seemed to freeze on the man’s face at the comment. His eyebrow ticked in irritation as he bit out in a grimacing tone, “ah, ha, indeed…?”

Tensa merely continued to smile.

Ukitake’s shoulders shook with mirth.

Byakuya had his eyes closed as if praying for patience. Somehow, he could imagine Ichigo saying much the same to himself. 

“…Tensa?” A slightly hesitant voice called.

Tensa and Senbonzakura looked up as Ichigo entreated his smaller spirit to say something.

“Master, this is indeed Senbonzakura. He is not quite the same as I last remember, but that is to be expected. I can confirm he is much younger; the assertion we are in the past would explain such an occurrence. “More importantly,” he smiled softly, “I was able to create a connection and reach a soul resonance.”

The group of beings from the future were shocked into a moment of silence as they processed Tensa’s findings.

Shiro’s eyes had gotten increasingly wider as Tensa had spoken and Muramasa looked pleasantly surprised. He was elated that one of his bond mates had succeeded in making contact.

Mugetsu’s eyes were misty and seemed to shine before he turned sharply to Kurosaki, who had the same teary-eyed expression and had brought a hand up to cover his mouth to stifle a gasp.

Ichigo was outright crying. The tears fell in streams quietly from his amber orbs; he couldn’t tell if he was crying in happiness, or shock, or relief. 

Finally, there were smiles of relief and happiness for Ichigo from the rest of the room.

Ukitake had a soft look on his face as he held tightly to Shuunsui’s hand.

Yamamoto had leaned back in his chair and let out a tired, but genuinely happy sigh as everything began to come together.

Orihime and Rangiku were a mess as they hugged each other, overwhelmed by their emotions.

A wet-eyed Hitsugaya, avoiding their suffocating embrace off to the side, brought a hand up to wipe his eyes quickly.

Chad had finally untensed.

Isshin was crying loudly with copious amounts of snot and tears on a less than enthused Ryuuken.

Even the most stoic of the group were visibly moved by the sight of their strawberry finally coming around.

While everyone was coming to grips with the happy turn in the situation and pulling themselves together, Tensa and Senbonzakura had wrapped up their reunion with the reassurance that they could still maintain a faint bond with each other. 

In a flurry of pink petals, Senbonzakura dispersed and then reformed into his katana form in Byakuya’s hand. Sheathing the Zanpakutō once more, Byakuya looked anxious, as did Urahara and Shinji, to see what Ichigo would do now.

The others looked to Ichigo for his judgment. 

Inhaling shakily as he looked at his assembled spirits in something that finally resembled renewed hope, Ichigo nodded as if coming to a decision.

“…I…” he cleared his throat, still thick with emotion, “I think…since Tensa was able to connect and resonate we can say for sure that at least the Zanpakutō are genuine,” he paused. “A true resonance is not something that can be fabricated, and an illusion, even the strongest, cannot hope to fool our senses when we feel through our bonds.”

Ichigo wanted this to be real so bad it hurt. He wanted to give himself over to hope, but he was scared of how happy he was feeling right now.

…Please, please let us have this…even just for a moment…

“…That said... I suppose it is safe for us to confirm for ourselves…” Ichigo turned to his two doppelgangers.

Mugestu nodded in agreement, visibly happy at the prospect; Kurosaki had grabbed Ichigo’s hand, beaming a sunny smile at Ichigo’s permission.

“Ichigo,” Mugetsu said in his quiet, steady baritone, “the task falls to you alone.”

Ichigo looked at him in confusion as Kurosaki spoke as well, “that’s right Ichigo,” he smiled softly.

“Those are your Golden Mates over there; your connection will be stronger, more stable,” he finished with a reassuring squeeze to the quiet berry’s hand.

“…but, you” he looked at them imploringly, “…you as well, all of us…” he tried to make them understand that he felt they all deserved this chance. The three of them were equal in his mind. They were all Ichigo, the three of them.

“We will all feel the resonance when it happens. They are our mates, yes, but they are yours first and foremost,” Mugestu leaned in to speak in Ichigo’s ear, “go Ichigo, relieve your pain, our pain. Go find our heart.”

Ichigo looked one and then the other, nodding sharply he pulled himself up straighter and finally showed them the patented ‘determined Ichigo face.’

The three mates in question were getting a lot of looks from their associates, but they were also looking at each other in slight apprehension.

They wondered who Ichigo would pick. Maybe he would test them all. What would happen if he couldn’t connect with them? What then? The other thought that crosses their minds was the fact that they didn’t have a formal bond with their own Ichigo. They had no idea what a true soul bond even felt like. 

They had each known Ichigo for going on five years now, but they were all still in the early stages of their relationships with the young man. What was five years to a few centuries-old Shinigami? Even Ichigo seemed to believe they had all the time in the world to get to know each other. And if they did connect with this Ichigo, how would this affect forming bonds with their own Ichigo? 

Thinking around in circles would get them nowhere. They would just have to trust Ichigo to know what he was doing, because they hadn’t the faintest.

Ichigo stepped forward, his bare feet making no noise of the floor as he gracefully made his way towards the other group of people.

Urahara and Byakuya were still near the front, and Shinji made the last few steps forward so that they were all standing relatively near each other at the room’s divide.

They came to a stand-still with Ichigo looking at each of them in turn; his golden eyes scorching them as he took them all in.

None of them could look away from his fiery, intense stare. The closer Ichigo had gotten to them, the more they felt a pull towards him. Being near him was like having their souls warmed by fire, they felt a giddy feeling in their chests as they looked so closely into his eyes.

Ichigo must have felt something as well because his eyes widened a bit and he had once more placed a hand on his chest over his heart. The heart he said still beat but was hollow and ash. Inhaling shakily after a long moment of silent suspense, Ichigo finally addressed them, “Byakuya,” he said as if the name both pained and pleased him to finally say.

The noble nodded slightly in acknowledgment. He was hesitant to say anything to the man in case it upset of distracted the already on edge orangette.

Ichigo audibly swallowed, “I would like to ask you first. Tensa Zangestu and Senbonzakura were able to resonate so…” He looked at the other two apprehensively and back to him again, he couldn’t really decide. 

Byakuya could see how hard Ichigo was struggling and finally broke down and spoke to reassure his future mate, “Of course, Ichigo. It would be an honor.”

He bowed his head slightly towards Ichigo in the absence of being able to kiss his hand.

Ichigo flushed slightly and inhaled shakily as he nodded. “Ok…g-good.”

Everyone seemed to lean forward, curious to know if this would be the same or different than how the Zanpakutō had done it.

Slowly Ichigo raised his arm and slide his hand into his long, flame-like hair. Holding up the bulk of his hair and the woven, braided strands in a high-set tail was the pale green cloth his eyes had been drawn to when the man had first appeared. 

It was the sight of the familiar color and cloth that had caused Byakuya some initial distress.

It was common knowledge that only the Kuchiki Clan Head and past Heads were gifted these expensive and rare silk scarves. 

If a member, usually the Head’s spouse, was someone who became of great importance to the Clan, bringing honor and prosperity, they were also presented with one.

This was a rarity. 

Going back as far as six generations, and possibly more, only the Head had worn one. 

The presence of the scarf on Ichigo meant he was someone very special. It goes without saying that the scarf also meant Ichigo had married his Kuchiki Byakuya in the future and apparently taken his name as well. 

Of course, the other reason he could have the scarf was less positive. From Ichigo’s description of the future and the events that would come to pass, it was entirely possible that the origin of the scarf was in fact himself.

He held back a grimace.

Ichigo’s fingers gently pulled the cloth loose and it slide from his hair as it cascaded down his back in a beautiful display.

Using the other hand, Ichigo self-consciously pushed his hair out of his face in a nervous habit and with the other brought the long scarf around to clutch to his chest.

If the room hadn’t noticed the cloth earlier, they did now. It was impossible not to notice the identical nature of the scarf in Ichigo’s hand to the scarf around Byakuya’s neck.

Smiling slightly down at the fabric clutched in his hands, Ichigo looked up finally into Byakuya’s eyes.

“When we finally got around to formally marrying, your clan elders were ready to use drastic measures to tie me to your family,” Ichigo scoffed lightheartedly, “you always did have a habit of passive aggressively standing up to them though.”

Ukitake chuckled along with some of the older Captains.

“All of us were never in a rush to do anything,” he sighed. “That day, the first thing you did when the ceremony ended was wrap this around my neck,” he smirked as a slight bit of embarrassment showed through Byakuya’s mask and the laughter around them went up a notch.

He became quiet as he ran the material through his fingers. It was then that Byakuya noticed something else about the scarf. There were two halves, almost seamlessly stitched together. Ichigo closed his eyes as he sobered rapidly.

“When we were losing so badly, and the Worlds had gone to shit; when you fought with everything you had and took down a whole freakin’ army of those bastards,” he gave a wet half-chuckle. “When all I could do was sit there, useless, as you were dying in my arms, the last thing you did was wrap yours around my neck.”

Ichigo held himself together, but the tears still slid down his face and dripped with light patters onto the fabric. 

Once again, there weren’t many dry eyes in the room as happy memories gave way to painful ones.

Byakuya felt the words like cold shards stabbing his heart. He saw Hirako flinch in pain from the corner of his eye; heard Urahara’s gusting exhale. He acted on instinct to his mate’s tears and without a thought reached out to entwine his hands with Ichigo’s gently; their hands interlocked and intertwined with the pale silk.

Ichigo breathed in sharply as he looked up at the sudden contact. The open concern on Byakuya’s face and the slight squeeze of his hands around his own, prompted him to continue.

“Mura explained earlier how every soul pair has a different way of making a direct connection. It seems you somehow already knew what to do,” Ichigo squeezed Byakuya’s hands back, indicating their laced fingers and palms.

Showing only slight surprise on his face, Byakuya allowed his thumb to caress the skin under his grasp and waited patiently for Ichigo’s direction. Looking calmly into Byakuya’s stormy grey eyes, Ichigo began in a wistful tone, 

“I wake up in the morning, and in the first light of the day, I see your smile and I hear your voice say, ‘forever.’   
I wake up every morning, and in the first light of the day, I see you smile and I think to myself, ‘ah, I’m still dreaming.’”

Byakuya’s brows slightly furrowed in confusion, concern, and the slightest bit of anticipation. 

Ichigo pauses, still gazing at him as if looking through his soul. Tilting his head to the side as if in thought he continued, “Surely, ‘Miracles only happen once?’”

Click

It was almost like a key had unlocked a door in his mind.

He remembered the battle he and Ichigo had fought that day on Sokyoku Hill. Just the two of them, finally crossing released blades in serious combat. It was a day forever engrained into his mind as the day his pride was called into question. His sense of self and what he stood for was rearranged. His world-view was drastically altered forevermore by a flame-haired boy with an even more volatile spirit. 

It was the day Kurosaki Ichigo had first gained his, Kuchiki Byakuya’s, respect. He remembered being surprised by Ichigo’s rapid growth and skill. He remembered firmly telling the boy, after his first spectacular avoidance of his Senbonzakura’s Thousand Petals, “miracles only happen once.”

Of course, Ichigo lives to prove people wrong the right way. 

He managed to trump his second, much more intense, attack with sheer speed alone; surprising him yet again.

Cockily, the boy had mocked him…

“If miracles only happen once than what is it called the second time?” Byakuya said, his deep voice sincere but slightly breathless. 

Ichigo’s face broke out in a smile so warm Byakuya felt like his heart was on fire.

The response provoked a much more dramatic reaction then Tensa and Senbonzakura’s.

The second he finished uttering those words, two streams of reiatsu, one from each of them, lit the air around their hands. The reiatsu colored pale pink and fire swirled and mixed; it traveled up and down the scarf and over and up their arms, and then it engulfed them in a bright explosion on reiatsu. 

The amount of spiritual pressure was enormous and the weight of it made breathing for even some of the Lieutenants difficult.

When the light cleared up and everyone was no longer blinded to the sight of the two men, they could see that the reiatsu had formed into a ribbon, not unlike the scarf already around their hands.

The reiatsu ribbon was laid over the pale fabric, tying their hands together physically and spiritually. Both of them had happy tears lining their cheeks. Byakuya’s face was riff with open awe and Ichigo was glowing with elation.

Needless to say, they had resonated perfectly.

……………………………………………………………………………………..  
………………………………………….

**Author's Note:**

> Muramasa – Kyoka Suigetsu, Shiro Zangetsu, Kurosaki Ichigo, Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo, Mugetsu, Zangetsu Ossan, Tensa Zangetsu, Benihime, Sakanade, Katen Kyokotsu 
> 
> Kurosaki Ichigo – Ishida Uryuu, Jugram Haschwalth, Aizen Sousuke, Hirako Shinji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Urahara Kisuke [Coyote Starrk, Grimmjow Jaeggerjaws] [Mugetsu (self), Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo (self)] [Shiro Zangetsu, Kyoka Suigetsu, Senbonzakura, Zangetsu Ossan, Tensa Zangetsu, Muramasa, Katen Kyokotsu, Benihime, Sakanade, Sogyou no Kotawari, Hyourinmaru, Sode no Shirayuki]
> 
> Shiro Zangetsu – Grimmjow Jaeggerjaws, Zangetsu Ossan, Muramasa, Kurosaki Ichigo, Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo, Mugetsu, Tensa Zangetsu
> 
> Zangetsu Ossan – Benihime, Sakanade, Shiro Zangetsu, Muramasa, Katen Kyokotsu, Kurosaki Ichigo, Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo, Mugetsu, Tensa Zangetsu, Sode no Shirayuki, Hyourinmaru, Sogyou no Kotawari
> 
> Tensa Zangetsu – Senbonzakura, Shiro Zangetsu, Kurosaki Ichigo, Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo, Mugetsu, Zangetsu Ossan, Hyourinmaru, Muramasa, Benihime, Sakanade, Katen Kyokotsu 
> 
> Mugetsu – Coyote Starrk, Aizen Sousuke, Hirako Shinji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Urahara Kisuke [Ishida Uryuu, Jugram Haschwalth, Grimmjow Jaeggerjaws] [Kurosaki Ichigo (self), Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo (self)], Shiro Zangetsu, Kyoka Suigetsu, Senbonzakura, Zangetsu Ossan, Tensa Zangetsu, Muramasa, Benihime, Sakanade, Katen Kyokotsu, Sogyou no Kotawari, Hyourinmaru, Sode no Shirayuki]
> 
> Shiba Kurosaki (Kouhaku) Ichigo – Aizen Sousuke, Hirako Shinji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Urahara Kisuke [Coyote Starrk, Ishida Uryuu, Jugram Haschwalth, Grimmjow Jaeggerjaws] [Mugetsu (self), Kurosaki Ichigo (self)], [Shiro Zangetsu, Kyoka Suigetsu, Senbonzakura, Zangetsu Ossan, Tensa Zangetsu, Muramasa, Benihime, Sakanade, Katen Kyokotsu, Sogyou no Kotawari, Hyourinmaru, Sode no Shirayuki] 
> 
> Confused? Me too... this was color-coded once upon a time


End file.
